Misery loves company
by madefrommagic
Summary: The chandelier never fell. He took her from her palace just the same. Except, Elsa never made it back to Arendelle and neither did Prince Hans. [Helsa] [fire!Hans] Slow burn.
1. Fear will be your enemy

A/N: This is no ordinary fire Hans story.

Disclaimer: I don't own frozen, nor make any profit from this story. I am just a fan.

* * *

 **Chapter one**

 _Fear will be your enemy_

 _._

Elsa was on fire. Who knew someone so cold could burn? So instead of turning to ash; crumbling under her own weakness, she kept her jaw clenched and her focus on the man. The man behind the angry ice, _her_ angry ice, edging closer and closer by the second to the edge of life.

It almost hurt, using that much power. That much of herself. It was as if the force was pushing against her rather than him. That was nothing new, though.

What scared her the most wasn't this. It was how amidst the racing blood in her veins and the trip of her heart, there was a thrill. Its fingers curled around her bones like smoke, gentle but suffocating. A lull that was a knife dressed as a daisy, and Elsa plucked it. She felt a surge of pure hatred, hatred for the men who had come so eager to kill her, hatred as cold and as hard ice.

She was bursting. There would be no mercy.

Nothing was more powerful than the grip of fear, and Elsa knew it as if it was a best friend. A very one sided friendship indeed. Today, they where working hand in hand with rage. The ragged shards surrounding her mirrored it to utter perfection. But that perfect girl is gone, yet some things are weaved so deeply within you, it cannot be helped.

 _Or controlled._

She was so intent on her purpose, so taken in her fear, in her anger, that she mistook the pounding of feet for her own heart (if ice could beat), and the sound of her name on a strangers tongue was lost to her completely. She furrowed her brows as rage continued to consume her steadily.

"Don't be the monster they fear you are!"

That was in sublime clarity. Oh, it cut right through her–

 _I don't want to hurt you.._

 _Stay, away._

 _Monster! Monster!_

–and struck the cord. Elsa remembered exactly where she was, although she'd never been aware that she'd forgotten. The smoke retreated, as if that too was afraid. Fear laughed, ringing, _gripping_ , and her hands fell like melting snow as wide eyes met green ones. The horror of who she was stared back at her in an army, an army needed to face her. She couldn't breathe for the air choked her for it, leaving her breathless and gasping as what she'd just done tore through her mind.

And was that...

 _Prince Hans of the Southern Isles._

 _Your Majesty._

 _You can't marry a man you just met._

 _All you know is how to shut people out._

 ** _Close the Gates_** **.**

Her past followed her up the north mountain, one by one. Anna had come, and Elsa was unarmed, for all mantra had gone. She had refused too conceal, now she was incapable of it. At the time it had seemed achingly, gloriously right to hurl it into the wind. Then, by each word her sister had spoken, she realised that despite standing in her own power, she was weaker than ever, and the vicious wave of self-loathing plummeted down.

 _You can't be free you stupid girl._

Now here was another one, one she barely even knew. That itself frightened her even more. She wanted to move, to run, but everything was felt at once and the weight of it all anchored her down. The prince stared back in alarm, him too, unmoving. It could've been silent, if it wasn't for the sound of their ragged breaths and the winds ghostly howl.

He was doing the job she was supposed to have done. He was saving her kingdom... from her.

If she could trust her own judgement, let alone read anyone at all, she would've noted the compassion in his eyes. Still, she was surprised and somewhat calmed to find some comfort there, before his head snapped away like her stare had hurt him (as she expects it does), and Hans leapt across the room in fury.

There was a squeak as he halted, a click, then the air swooshed over her head. The Queen turned to watch an arrow pierce the wall with a sharp crunch. To her horror, she heard the unmistakable sound of bones breaking behind her, and a guttural snarl echoed horribly in symphony. She threw ice shards to the ground with a start, causing the unsheathing of numerous swords to join the cacophony of a serenade to her fear.

Elsa balled her fists as they begun to shake, Ice crawling up the walls in ominous shadows. Her chest clenched as she considered Hans, and it dawned on her she had just been rescued from herself. Elsa felt a wave of relief before nausea hit her. Had that very person just died for her sake?

Turning with a gulped breath, her darting gaze fell on his advancing face, and as relief filled her for the second time, Elsa found herself being tugged roughly away, the only explanation being a gruff, urgent command "Come with me."

Then afterwards, like a stuttered correction "Your Majesty." said with such admiring respect it made her shiver.

She almost laughed, and would've if she wasn't in sheer fright and running for her life, her hand clasped by a stranger who was currently skidding through her palace with tremendous speed.

Elsa couldn't help a brief, quivering smile, though. Being so conscious of formalities at a time like this seemed utterly ridiculous yet strangely endearing.

At the same time, she thought it rather strange someone would cling to it so tightly.

When they broke into the biting air, the sky had darkened to a murky black. It was then she noticed Hans.

His right shoulder was stained with blood, almost as dark as the oncoming night against his grey cloak. All colour had been drained from his cheeks. He looked grave, his expression deeply disturbed.

Elsa was about to ask if he was alright, and more pressingly, _what the hell had just happened_ , when he composed himself almost instantaneously, becoming the poised prince she'd initially seen. At this, she raised a brow in quiet surprise, suddenly wary of his behaviour.

With a brief glance at her, he took her hand once more and led her down her own staircase, falling a few steps behind as if too keep guard. Elsa thought his protection was blatantly over-played, but considered it was simply because she was the newly crowed queen of Arendelle _who had ice powers._ Which only made it more baffling, if she's going to be honest. But then, everyone baffled her.

Whatever spell had been cast earlier broke the moment he put his hands on her waist. Before she could protest, she was hauled onto a horse. Just as her mouth began to open, a scold ready on her lips, Hans clambered on behind her, gripped her waist with one arm and pulled her onto his lap. Elsa was at the point of outrage, clawing him off with a growl.

"Did I say you could touch me?" She snapped, moving as far away from him as possible, practically grimacing. She regretted her rudeness immediately, but stubbornly bore a glower deadly cold. Elsa _hated_ being touched. Her fraught nerves and fresh fear made her flat out loathe him for it. How dare he handle her so boldly? The thought itself made her seethe, and she was just about to poke the fire when he stooped down to stare right back at her.

Hans glared with such unexpected intensity, she faltered slightly, merely from the shock of it. The same eyes that had comforted her now burned with hate, and it sent a chill straight through her. She felt incredibly small, and despite being the one who wielded winter itself, she felt utterly powerless. But valiantly refusing to stand down, Elsa stared back just as hard, and for a moment she had a bizarre feeling he would kiss her.

When the look dropped effortlessly swift, as if he realised something, as if he simply a misplaced step, she questioned if she'd ever really seen it at all. Nonetheless she eyed him cautiously, puzzled immensely. Leaning back, she pursed her lips, waiting for the cold (or was it heat?) to emerge.

Instead, he bowed his head with the utmost, sincerest regard she'd ever seen in her life. It had her blinking back in speechless astonishment.

"Apologies, Queen Elsa, but my saddle was only built for one. Unless you wish to walk, I'm afraid you'll have to endure me, my lady." And with a radiant smile, a graceful snap of reins, they where galloping down the mountain at an alarming rate. Her hands flew to grasp the front of his cloak clumsily as she jolted backwards, wondering if the terror would ever end for her, and she focused desperately on stuffing down the bubbling panic inside.

A tiny voice in the back urged protest, but the honey drip of his voice and cheerful wit left Elsa quite conflicted and at loss. She didn't even get to inform him that walking suited her just fine, as she had walked the whole way up there previously, and she wondered how he could've forgotten such a thing.

She was never sure how to figure out people at all. Interacting was equally as daunting, so she closed her mouth and furrowed her brow while she pondered.

Her heart continued to pound wildly with each trod, and she jostled about like a rag doll. Hans kept trying to pull her closer despite her reluctance. Elsa, evidently, would much prefer to fall off, but the Prince of The Southern Isles had a firm hand.

To make matters worse, being out in the open, _galloping_ through it, Elsa could see her magic in all it's glory. A terrible guilt flooded her for what she had done, Arendelle and Anna pressing upon her from within and breaking her apart as she tragically tried to hold the pieces together. Suddenly racked with staggering grief, she unwittingly clutched closer to Hans, searching for some consolation, prey to the darkness of her own mind.

"I'm- I'm sorry." She stammered, tears filling her eyes. _No no no, don't cry, don't you dare cry!_ Hans looked down at her, concerned, if not a little confused. She hadn't meant to say that aloud. Now that she had, overwhelmed, steady sobs escaped her. Elsa tried hopelessly to compose herself but in a budding state of hysteria, the young queen could do nothing but grasp at the Prince in anguish.

"It's alright, your majesty. You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you." Elsa flushed as he spoke in hushed silk, her heart jarring. Upon realisation, she was instantly irritated by her own reaction.

She didn't trust him, and she certainty was not _charmed_ , yet he held her life in her hands. She didn't know whether to be frightened or flattered by that. But his promise seemed so honest and her pain would take anything, _anything_ to soothe it.

She didn't trust him though. Anna did. Sweet Anna, oh what had she done?

The battle swirled on inside the Queen as her tears stained his chest. In the distance, the thud of horses could be heard. It never occurred to her to ask him where they where actually going, until a hand reached into her hair and a tiny voice trembled.

"Elsa... I can't can back to Arendelle."

The first thing that struck her was the informal use of her name, and after the emphasis he had put on addressing her properly, this was quite irritating. She bolted upright to correct him, mystified by the fact she'd been so close in the first place. Her words died the moment she saw his face. He looked shaken to the point of nausea, his lip quivering as his eyes filled with grief.

He was completely vulnerable. Something within in her empathised fiercely, and Elsa wasn't sure what to do with that. Instead she opted for the obvious route.

"Why?" also, _I can't either and I can't believe I didn't argue against this sooner because of course that's where we where going and oh my god I'm on a horse._

Hans looked too her then, openly desperate. "I killed him. I killed the Dukes man."


	2. True Loves Kiss

A/N: Over too Anna

* * *

 **Chapter two**

 _True loves Kiss_

.

Anna arrived at the castle shivering and almost blue. It was like she had a fever, but instead of burning up, she was slowly freezing to death. So, alright, not quite a fever. Anyway, it doesn't matter, the point is... God it was cold.

She felt like a feather in Kristoffs arms.

"A-are you gonna be ok?" She stammered, looking up at him through drooping lids. He smiled, sweet and gentle, just like his entire being. Around her, she could hear the strange silence of the snow and the snap of the wind. She didn't believe she was in Arendelle at all.

"Don't worry about me." He said quietly, a hint of fondness in his voice. Her heart thrummed, and between the cold, she found a blooming warmth. She wanted to smile, but even her cheeks felt weak. She managed a slight quirk of her lips before her eyes fell closed.

The great doors burst open with an "Anna!" to reveal a worrying Gerda and Kai lingering behind a handmaiden. Relief flooded her and her eyes eased open again. They must've seen Sven approaching. She was truly and lovingly grateful to be surrounded by so much care.

As Kristoff placed her down softly, Anna held her hands to chest, fearing they might break away if she did otherwise.

"You had us worried sick!" Gerda exclaimed, placing a hand around her along with the maid. Gerda was like a grandmother to her, warm and fuzzy and full of love.

She let out a whimper, shivering as the cold prickled beneath her skin. "Oh, you're freezing" The maid tutted, brows drawn in worry. Freezing was quite the understatement, she noted, the ice gripping her heart violently.

"Get her warm." Kristoff instructed behind her, and she felt partial without him.

Anna stumbled and shivered beneath their hold, causing the women to fret and fuss even more, asking her if she wanted tea or a hot bath, and oh, what happened to your hair Princess? _I fell off a cliff,_ she thought. Her quivering lips quirked again.

"And find Prince Hans immediately."

Kai paused, stricken with a look of grief. "Prince Hans has not returned."

Anna turned against the warm hands encasing her, looking first to Kristoff then to Kai, purpling lips trembling. "W-w-wh-at?" A dreadful feeling plummeted through her. Glancing up at the snow peaked mountains, she felt dizzy.

"He went in search of you, my lady, a good while back now..." Kai swallowed. "We have been anxious for many days. The Queen's winter is relentless."

Anna's chin fell as she struggled to keep herself upright. Lifting her gaze slowly she turned to Kristoff, with a voice barely a whisper. "K-krisof-ff.. what-t am I g-gonna d-d-do?" And with that, a shot of unbearable cold cut through her, sending The Princess tumbling back into Gerda's arms. The voices around her erupted in a chorus of her name.

Piecing her half formed thoughts together, Anna grasped at consciousness as she shivered violently.

Without Hans, she wouldn't be able to receive true loves kiss, and would surely die. W _hat had happened to Hans?_ Terrible scenarios raced through her mind in an instant. Anna felt a surge of anger towards her sister for a brief moment, but that, as always, was replaced by the love and empathy that made Anna the good-natured girl she was.

Instead she felt sorry for Elsa. She wanted more than ever to help her, to gain her trust again. Except something within her feared that Elsa truly could not stop this winter, and that her sister would be lost to her forever. It was that uncertainty that spurred Anna on in her determination to set things right, for otherwise, what hope was there?

Even as she lie frozen by her sisters curse, Anna vowed to keep going.

Meanwhile, the fading Princess was being hurried inside, which she only registered half a second before the gate snapped shut. Panic filled her as she twisted upwards, but it was dispelled immediately when she found Kristoff was right beside her. Gerda must've invited him. She always seemed to know what Anna really wanted.

Shuffled through the darkened halls to the library, she was placed on a chaise lougue in front of the fire, which was quickly being lit by Kai. Gerda knelt beside her, grasping her hand. She would've clung back if she could.

"Anna, is there anything you need?" _Hans, but that's impossible now._ She shook her head.

The room was suddenly crowded with dignitaries, nosy and concerned for the young girl. Hushed voices floated through the fire lit room, a calm orange glow bathing the carpet before her. She shivered gently, curling up on herself.

Gerda sent for a blanket, then went to make Anna a cup of tea despite her polite denial. She doubted she could even lift the cup, Anna suspected it was actually for Gerda herself, and thought upon it fondly. The dignitaries had fallen silent, beside the odd whisper. She had a feeling one or two had left too.

Anna felt horribly alone.

"K-kristoff?" She whispered, eyes barely open. She felt the air stir beside her and the fires glow was obscured.

Anna mustered up a weak smile, a real one this time as his face filled her sight. "Hi" Kristoff said softly, placing a bare hand on her shoulder. He'd taken his hat off as well, and the light from behind gave his golden hair a soft halo.

She tried to giggle, only it ended up more of a sigh, but either would do. She drew her hands in closer as she exhaled. "Where's Sven?" His mouth opened to respond, when all of a sudden the door flung open, smacking the wall. Footsteps thudded through and someone shrieked like a dying bird.

Kristoff jumped, and as he turned Anna assumed everyone else in the room was looking in the same direction too. She wouldn't know; being the casualty really sucks. Then the sound of an agile peacock filled the room, and, oh, she was suddenly very very glad of her inability to move.

"Witchcraft! Look, what horror! Struck by her own sister!" The Duke of Weselton exclaimed dramatically. Anna inwardly rolled her eyes. How did even know about this so quickly? Anna recalled the two dignitaries.

Nosy old crook.

His final words stayed with her, making Anna scowl. _Elsa didn't mean to hurt you_ she told herself, yet the scold stayed in her heart all the same. The cold ached right through her bones.

There was a pause and silence fell again. He sniffed. "And what of" His voice fell bitter. "Prince Hans? Has he too suffered the same fate?"

"He has still not returned from the mountains, Duke." A voice informed from the back of the room.

"Well". The Duke scoffed. "I can only hope the traitor got what he deserved."

At this, Anna sat up, or well, attempted too, hands flying to the arm of the chair for support. "What do you mean, traitor?" She wheezed, before Kristoff caught her gently and placed her back against the chair. The Duke hadn't heard anything but a half breathed question. He looked to Kristoff.

"The Princess wishes to know what you mean." He said, somewhat awkwardly in the formal words that did not fit his tongue. His hands found Anna's and she clung to them weakly.

"Prince Hans is a murderer" He stated, bluntly, poison in his tone. Anna's chest seized, her mind racing.

Kristoff caressed her hand as she fidgeted and shook. "Elsa?" She asked, urgently.

"hmmm?" The Duke said nonchalantly, as if he'd already forgotten the matter. "Oh no, not her!" He exclaimed, an angry gnome once more. "That would be a blessing! I'd crown him myself! No, the Queen is quite alive thanks to Prince Hans. One of my men however, is not."

Anna sighed in relief.

His tale of woe had not ended, however. "Erik here" He continued. "Tells me Francis was pinned to the wall, intended to be killed by the Queen. He aimed for the sorceress, but the traitor misguided his arrow before brutally attacking him. Brave Francis fought back, but alas, The Prince was too violent for him, snapping off a shard of her dark ice. Sadly, with a broken leg and pierced artery, he did not survive the treacherous journey home. She would've killed Erik too."

The dignitaries exploded into shocked chatter.

"Goodness me!"

"Mon dieu!"

"Actually he never attempted the journ-" Erik began and was cut off with a jab of an elbow.

"We shall discuss matters in the Chamber!"

The Duke's wide strides indicated he had left along with Erik, and the shuffle behind him added the dignitaries too the party as well. The door slammed and Anna was left slightly shocked, mostly by his abrupt entrance and exit.

She knew his account would be heavily exaggerated, but the amount of violence in it made her shudder. Had Elsa really tried to kill those men? She shook her head, reminding herself how afraid Elsa had been when she last saw her. If she caused anyone harm, it was out of fear and defence. It wasn't intended.

Her heart twinged as if to remind her what had been done to her. Though her love never faltered, Anna couldn't help but wonder if she really knew her sister at all.

And Hans, Hans had killed someone to save Elsa. Now he couldn't face the Duke; his words would only be twisted against him beyond recognition.

Anna did not see a fault in protection, especially for her sister, yet something bothered her about this, and the feeling only addled her further. Anna realised then, as the ice in her heart froze her from within, she knew very little about the world and the people around her.

Would Hans have even been able too save her?

Something soft draped over her and she glanced through heavy eyes too see Kristoff tucking a blanket around her. Feeling swelled within in her then, filling her with love for the man who had taken her up the north mountain, and back again.

Then it hit her and as cliche as it is, she really, honestly couldn't believe she'd been so blind. (She wasn't _that_ surprised she had been, though, based on her recent conclusions...)

Her hand shot out and grasped his coat with as much strength as a frozen girl could manage. "K-kiss me." She stuttered.

Kristoff was taken aback, but held her steady just the same. "What, Anna, I'm sure the trolls know-"

"Kri-s-stoff, I-I Love Y-you."

He fell silent, his expression unreadable. She began to fear she'd made a mistake, shrinking away slowly. But two hands cupped her face gently, pulling her back, and his lips meet hers with incredible warmth.

It started in her chest, retreating and spreading until she was warm and tingly all over. Her hands still trembled but the numbness had gone, so she drew them around his neck. She felt alive, giddy, she felt like Anna, and he was Kristoff.

When the kiss broke, his forehead met hers. "Me too."

She grinned.

"Wait, I meant I love you too, not I love me too, that just ruins it, I'm sorry, I mean you're unfrozen so clearly-"

The second kiss is always better. Especially if it's true love.


	3. Loud Quiet

A/N: So this is basically dripping with angst.

Trigger warning: References to Anxiety and Panic attacks. Some hints to depression.

* * *

 **Chapter three**

 _Loud Quiet_

 _._

1\. _Conceal_

.

"Elsa. Elsa."

She saw hell. It was static and black and her head was tremendously fuzzy. Her shoulders felt painfully tight, like something had clamped onto her and was trying to crush her. Her body kept slamming the air. It was horrible.

"Your majesty, please. You _really_ need to get up!" Her eyes snapped open at the sound of his voice. _Him_. Not Anna, not Gerda, not her kind, warm eyed mother from an age long forgotten. Prince Hans of the Southern isles, a man she barely knew yet seemed to be very concerned for her well being. _I am the Queen..._

He was shaking her desperately, stopping abruptly, to her relief, when he realised she was conscious. The jarring was most awful and she was glad it was over.

The clouds where all she saw beyond the fire, (later discovered, when she had thought back on it, to be Hans' hair.) An endless prison of swirling nothing engulfed her. Despite her visions blur and the lightness of her head numbing her, (the pit of her stomach didn't feel so great either,) she managed to recall what had happened in one flashing surge of colour.

Hans had confessed his deed. He was scared. So scared. So was she. They where both scared and he had his hand in her hair- which was not proper at all, and she was crying - which was even less so. But she did not conceal for once. The icicles dripped all around them, she heard every one of them calling her name, flooding the land with her guilt. Drowning her. Freezing the earth she called home.

However, even though this thoroughly hurt her, and Hans to his own, they where also, in reality, on a horse. Both occupants of it had entirely forgotten this. The awful distant rumbling of other steeds screamed of oncoming threat, and in his own moment of panic, Sitron had stumbled and thrown them off violently. He'd galloped off into the mist as she flew backwards, cold rushing all around her as if to embrace her. It was a strangely nice feeling. Fitting, if anything.

Then she landed with a 'poof', snow flying up and floating back down on her face, her heart screeching in her chest. And then she must've fainted. Inwardly, she rolled her eyes at herself for her dramatics. Typical, really.

Before she had time to ponder this any further and explore deeper, possibly more pressing matters, she was gathered from the ground and pulled to her feet. She found herself vertical, the world in it's rightful place once more, and Hans let her go instantly, relieving her discomfort, but began and continued to beckon her urgently across the mountain side.

The awful rumbles of hoofs still poured into the crevasses of the great North Mountain. The belly of a beast, she thought. Louder. Closer. Elsa gazed around herself with big blue eyes, calculating, urging her brain to piece reality back into one solid form and her thoughts into rationality. She let the briskness of the open hold her for a moment.

That was when Hans informed her she'd better stop gawping at the clouds and get a move on if she insisted they be so entirely independent and unattached, and this time she did offer a rather pointed glare, to which he apologised most courteously. Was he... bowing? Never mind, he was probably actually right. She hitched her train off the ground, abandoning her wish for sudden inspiration, and hurried after the prince.

Elsa found herself under a large tree.

"Hans, if you don't mind me asking, do you have... any idea what you're doing?"

He spared her a glance before resuming his position of hiding behind the trunk. "No, not really."

"Well, that's reassuring."

"But do not fear!" He exclaimed instantly, as if he fancied himself a knight. "I swear over my fathers grave, I won't let you get hurt your majesty." Then, turning to try at catch her shy gaze- "You will be safe as long as I am here." Hans assured, questionably confident and valiant for a man quivering under a Norwegian pine.

Elsa gulped, nodding. He had said that before with the same vigour, and although she had felt amazingly safe then, she wasn't completely sure as of now. Look how that turned out.. and besides, she still didn't _really_ trust him. Could she say that? Did she really trust anyone? Maybe Anna. She doubted she would reciprocate now, after what she'd done.

Coming after them both was an army of men with plenty more swords than he or she. She was afraid not only for their fate, but what she might do if it came to desperate means, resorting to her powers for defence once again. It hadn't been so long ago, the last time. It couldn't have been more than hour.

Elsa wasn't so sure she even wanted to survive this.

Her body sank to the floor before she had registered it, forgetting her company for a moment. Thoughts became nothing and everything. Her heart felt like it was about to explode, and then suck her into the supernova of herself. She felt, in short, awful. Even she could not decipher exactly how she felt, crouched in the middle of the woods, run away from her throne, and with only the company of a considerably bizarre prince.

Breathing steadily to calm her nerves, Elsa slowly uncurled her hands from her chest, where they had flown like a reflex as she fell, and brought them palm up in front of her. She was trembling so violently she could barely focus on the icy swirls embedded into them from her last endeavour.

"Your majesty are you alright?" Hans asked, his voice suddenly so very loud and clean to her ears. Elsa didn't respond, couldn't respond, and then that tight feeling seized her again, all around her back and shoulders this time. Different to the one vicing onto her insides, for though touch excited stiffness, there was a warmth beneath his fingers unlike anything she'd ever felt. Part of her told her it was nice.

 _Icicles dripped. She understood how he felt. She knew what it was like, fear, loneliness, being so loveless-_

Part of her was utterly horrified. She couldn't contain herself, emotion overwhelming her from all over the spectrum. The tightness moved to her hair, like a caress and she yelped, leaping out of the hold with outrage and confusion. Elsa spun unchecked in this perplexity, smacking the culprit square in the jaw.

It was Hans' turn to let out a howl, his gloved hand flying to an already glowing jaw, angry red. It seemed to fill him with that, too, as he barked, "Good Lord women, What on earth wrong with you! I was only trying to help!" Then his lips pressed themselves together to prevent anymore words, having realised his mistake as soon as he met her murderous glare.

Elsa's hands where balled in pure indignation. _How dare he!_ Her lip quivered as she turned away from him. She intended to scold him for his disrespect, insist on the proper conduct of a prince before a queen. Her words left with nothing akin to queenly air however and she hated herself for it. She hated how she had no control. Over anything.

"There is nothing wrong with me!" She cried, balling up her hands as the ground beneath them crackled and creaked. " _You_ grabbed _me!_ Oh, you hateful man!"

Hans stepped back baffled for a moment, then, as if checking himself, bowed deeply. "Your majesty, I am tremendously sure you are right, allow me to apologise-"

"No." Elsa growled with such unrestrained anger she shocked herself.

He was cautious, then, when she looked back at him. His green eyes had melted and solidified into something all together different. One hand was extended beyond him as if she was an untamed lion, his eyes holding hers reassuringly but with serious feeling, much like he had been when he told her not to be a monster. Part of her wanted to batter him to the ground, but then Elsa remembered her father and realised he used to looked at her somewhat like the insufferable man before her. Oh how she feared then.

She feared she'd proven herself to be such an awful creature in Hans' eyes as she had to the rest of them. The people she should be protecting. Why did that make her tremble even more? Why, despite distrusting him so passionately, did she believe his claims of safety? Her mind told her she was suspicious but in her core, her burning soul, she believed him viciously and she'd never been more breathlessly conflicted.

It was how he stared back. Like he understood. But he didn't, he couldn't, could he? Her head continued to tear itself to shreds.

Father didn't understand, so why should _he?_

"Elsa." He said, slowly. She nodded. It was all suddenly very slow and very fast. The snow fell outside in this exact manner. She thought she said help, but no one reacted, so that must've been in her head. It hurt how loud it was to her, how pathetically loud.

"Queen Elsa." She whispered shakily to correct him. She attempted to straighten herself into a more graceful posture, after tasting the bitter edge of her voice, and she eyed him definitely, though she knew that her eyes had already betrayed her vulnerability. This man was sharp like ice- not one glimmer would surpass him. _No, I do not trust him. Not at all._

Hans stepped forwards an inch, telling her to stay calm. She flinched a little. He looked somewhat annoyed, but concealed this extraordinarily well. She furrowed her brows, lips pursed, suspicious in the midst of her melt down. He scrutinised her back and then she turned with a soft, but quite heard "humph!" and plopped herself on the floor.

"You don't understand, Prince Hans."

.

2\. _Don't feel_

.

Another hour eclipsed and the sky had darkened to a fierce navy. Dainty little stars scattered the heavens now, blinking like a child with a running mind in the night, eyes clear, wide and completely void of all intentions of sleeping. Vague streaks of greens and purples where starting to form in thin strands across the picture.

When Elsa saw the lights, she'd always get the impression the universe was seeping through tiny cracks. Stars where pointy, sharp and bright, blinding glints of metal. They can cut. This is what she had believed was the case when she was younger. When her own mind ran into the night, and shadows warped the fading innocence she possessed.

Anna thought the sky was awake.

Elsa thought it was bleeding.

She peered at this sight through the snow caked branches of the pine tree, grasping the evergreen stems with trembling hands - the remnants of a staggering panic attack. She was quite accustomed to working with it. For as long as she could remember, she had cleaned her ice wrought book shelves, organised her dressers and braided her pale locks, all while her little figure trembled constantly with a feeling she had not understood well at the time. Traumatised and impressionable, she had just accepted it as part of her, her fault. A part of her curse. She could not see it any other way.

No one had ever said otherwise.

 _"Your highness, are you cold?" asked Gerda one afternoon, as she placed Elsa's latest pile of books on the birch wood desk._

Ha. Cold.

Poor Gerda. Too honest, even Elsa couldn't miss it. She had watched her like a she was a stranger. Everyone did.

From her current spot in the tree, Elsa had watched. She watched the rest of the men who had arrived with Hans storm down the mountain side like an roaring avalanche. She watched the earth tremble with her, like they where one. In that strange, loud sort of quiet, all she could see was the blur of strong legs and the sheen of snow stirred up by them, a veil of her produce. Beautiful chaos.

Time seemed to stand still in the sea of white and hooves, and only then did Elsa find some sort of solace, hemmed in by deep green, watching the world from where it could not see her.

Everyone had finally left her in peace.

Well, all except Prince Hans of the Southern isles. The knowledge of his presence was known in her mind so fiercely she would to tear herself apart if it ceased the torment. Her brain was the chalk board, he was the hand clawing itself across it. Therefore, it had only been a matter of a time before she found herself comparing him to a wasp with all that awful buzzing in her skull. Irritating, invading her solitude, disrupting her mindfulness, distracting her from important musings. Painful. Confusing. _understanding._ Teeth gritting, fist clenching, bone aching,

 _let me out, let me out!_

A stiff silence had fallen between the two of them. As of now, they'd shared nothing more than quiet, snide remarks.

She preferred to be alone, where this couldn't happen. Where she could read and pretend it was all okay. Elsa had learnt everything from stories, poems, plays. In her room, where there was only certain things to look at, and that always stayed the same. She called it a form of comfort, condolence. One she'd made up. She wanted to escape. _Escape where?_

"Elsa will you just calm down, you're making me nervous with all that muttering and heaving." Hans suddenly said, sharply, like a knife slicing the silent winter air. Not even bothering to hide his bitterness, this time.

Elsa turned to him in an instant, the first since she'd offended him earlier. Furious. He looked positively gob smacked when her eyes met his, jolting away slightly as if she'd hit him. This threw her quite substantially, but the girl who bore the fear alone for fifteen years stood tall within her.

"Maybe if you had any concept of personal space, any respect for my personal requests, or even an ounce of consideration, you wouldn't be so horribly offended by my anxiety!" She hissed, pointedly moving away from him as much as she could in the confined space.

Jabbing a finger toward him she continued. "You seem to forget that I am _not_ my sister. You do _not_ understand me, and I will _not_ be handled so freely by some prince charming who thinks he is the epitome of male royalty."

"Wait, when did I _ever_ say I think that-" Then, stopping. "Prince charming?" He grinned. "Is that what you really think?"

"Oh save it Hans," she replied coldly, purposefully ignoring his second remark, "you think I don't know when someone is after attention? Cold Queen Elsa. Vulnerable and rich. You're so desperate for praise it's revolting."

Hans blinked back, speechless. The wind howled in the silence that fell. He looked delightfully uncomfortable, and she noted her enjoyment of this with some alarm. She swore for just a moment she'd seen that same flash of hate from earlier, that fire, dancing in his green eyes and she shuddered privately. Actually, he looked a bit... worried? She wasn't sure about that one. It did bother her, though, because she always felt like he was going to kiss her and she didn't like how she hadn't a solid, tangible thought on that. It was a feeling that smothered her and made her squirm.

But it didn't matter, he ruined it anyway with his next interjection–

"I'd never marry you, anyway." He sniffed. Petty boy. If she squinted she would almost reckon he was _sulking_.

Elsa didn't stop her laugh. "Likewise."

Hans looked away, running a finger through the snow in front of him. The wind continued to howl. They continued being eaten alive by the black holes of bitterness. Elsa used this to mask her hurt, to cover the stain he'd made on her heart in such short time. Simple as putting a rug over it. She didn't know what his mask was. He slipped from cruel to caring so clumsily it was hard to tell.

"I didn't think you knew what human emotions where, If we're going to be honest with each other now, _your majesty._ " He sneered.

That calved at her, like hurt. She scowled deeply at him and he grinned wide, toothy. Refusing to be wounded by him she made no further reaction. She saw him fully then; the blood staining his right shoulder, the cruelness in his expression, and she wondered how he knew so much about monsters if he pretended he wasn't one himself. To an onlooker, one would think they where two wolves stuck in human form, glowering at one another.

It felt like he was jabbing pins into her, a bully, no more than that. Perhaps she didn't know what human emotions where, since she couldn't sort her own ones out.

Then something absolutely terrible happened. The worst outcome possible, the most tragic occurrence that could ever bestow itself upon Elsa at that very moment. She began to cry. _No! Shut up! Don't do this, don't let him know this! What happened to don't feel Elsa!_

 _...What happened to don't feel?_

He didn't try to touch her this time. He didn't put his hand in her hair. _He did not yell._ She was surprisingly pleased as she dabbed her tears with her train, if not a bit vexed it took him so long to be decent. She touched her own hair before shaking it off, as if shocked to find herself replicating it.

 _What, now you want what you don't get? Shut up, don't be pathetic._

Instead, Hans studied her with wordless eyes from his humble abode across from her. The tree was very cramped indeed, branches jabbing them in the most awkward of places. Hans had curled himself against the trunk, about 5 inches of space between them, which he created to satisfy her burning need for _Spaceee_. As she said it. She'd heard him mutter about how he should take her to Mars.

"I, I do actually understand." He mumbled suddenly, staring at her so hard it might burn through her. She touched her face, blinking.

She scoffed. He looked away.

"What? Don't be childish Hans- "

"I'm not." He stated, firm, matter of fact. She shut her mouth and sat up. Being cut off wasn't the prime issue right then. She felt a tightness in her stomach, but this time it wasn't so bad she felt she needed to scream. It was just there, kindling itself, unfolding like a blooming flower as each second passed between them.

Hans shuffled closer to her, careful to leave reasonable space as he settled beside her. Elsa peered up at him, her grip around her train becoming vice like. She felt... she couldn't really breathe, basically. Worst of all, she began to thinking again how he might kiss her and she didn't know what to do about that, and why she kept assuming this she had no idea. She didn't even know what to think of it. Why would she think of it? He's supposed to love Anna, and his face is kinda long- Wait, why was he taking off his glove? This never happened in her books, what could he possibly show by taking off his gloves?

The glove shed, and not without Elsa's increasing alarm. The _bare_ hand took her _bare chin_ to make her look at him, and she gawped. Her thoughts ceased all together. She simultaneously hated him and herself more than anything in that second, but before Elsa could _truly_ panic about that, he took his grip away, held out the bare hand in front of her, and told her once more,

"I understand."

And then she saw it, that fire, dancing in his green eyes.

The warmth bathed her face, her eyes fell to gaze into the flame that curled and flickered in his hand, _shining angry snow,_ and she replied in no more than a whisper "You understand."


	4. Fire and Ice

A/N: I got stuck on the north mountain?... for a year...?

I still don't own frozen.

Thank you for all the lovely reviews that made me come back to this. :)

* * *

 **Chapter four**

 _Fire and Ice_  
.

If anyone happened to be riding by, or maybe just wandering lost, dehydrated and horribly frost-bitten up the North Mountain that evening, they might've stopped to wonder about the Pine tree that seemed to be glowing from the inside. They might call it witchcraft or blame it on their hallucinating mind, then totter off in hopeless agony. The two figures inside this particular tree were oblivious to this possible spectacle.

Elsa in particular.

The fire seemed to fill her with a feeling greatly unknown, yet wonderfully divine. She wished to speak, ask him the questions that such a thing would encourage, but she couldn't move. She was mesmerised, and the peculiar feeling made her breathless.

Hans noticed this hesitation and thinking she might be frightened, began to close his hand. He definitely looked most surprised when the Queen of Arendelle, so averted to touch, so cold to him, raised her hand to stop this with a grip so urgent it actually hurt. He stared at her face, illuminated by his fire, and found himself just as speechless as she.

Her hand was now clinging to his, and the sensation of hot against cold heightened the sense of it. Something delicate hung between them. It was a fragile cobweb that could break at the slightest of movements, vanish with the gentlest of breaths. Elsa was utterly, immovably transfixed by the flame he held as easily as she did ice. Understanding seemed too weak a description. This was so much more.

Merely two hours ago she had been alone in her ice palace, guilt-ridden and distressed, and then she had been attacked by an army. She had been deranged with fear, her mind so blackened by its loneliness and self-hatred, she felt she would never know herself again. No creature was as alone, as awful, or as frightened as she.

The Queen lifted her gaze to meet his.

She had never felt the power of anyone's eyes the way she felt his. Heat blazed in them.

It would've been unbearable, had it been completely unpleasant. Elsa could not pretend it was so. The touch of their hands, the caress of the fire on her skin, the closeness she suddenly found herself in. The entire world seemed on fire.

He could kiss her now with just the smallest move. The more she thought of this, the more convinced she became of its happening. Neither really sure of what either thought, they stayed in a frozen state of awe until Hans inevitably twitched and threw Elsa's heart into violent panic. The wave of fear rose from its brief stillness and swept over her once again, freezing his hand and extinguishing the flame.

The fizz came first, then Hans cried out.

Elsa had broken the cobweb.

"Oh my god! Hans! I'm- I'm so sorry, oh my god, are you okay?"

Hans groaned, clutching his frozen hand with an expression of obvious pain. Why, he thought for a moment, does she keep injuring me?

"I'm fine, don't worry." He forced through clenched teeth. "It doesn't hurt that bad." Elsa however, was inclined to worry greatly, especially when she found she'd hurt someone - even him. Her heart couldn't bare it. She blamed herself too much and feared it, ever since little Anna fell on the ground like a doll.

"How can you say such a thing!" She gasped, rushing over to grab at his hand once more. "Oh you poor thing! This is why you must stay away from me, I'm such an idiot-" She turned over his palm and was momentarily baffled to find it was already thawing. The melt water dripped down her wrist. She stared.

Hans burst out laughing.

"Oh my god." Elsa said stepping backwards, completely mortified.

"You really _are_ an idiot." Hans said.

Hearing the grin in his voice, Elsa shot him an absolutely filthy look and it was dropped in an instant. Hans cleared his throat.

"Sorry." He ventured awkwardly. She crossed her arms. "Sorry, _your majesty._ " He corrected. "I don't think you're an idiot. You're very clever. Probably."

Then, risking a smile. "But you did _just_ literally discover I had fire powers."

"I hate you so much."

With that, Elsa parted the tree branches and stepped out into the clearing. Hans, of course, followed after her, grinning, and continued to amuse himself.

"It was right in front of you! And it's not like you didn't take your time - _queenly time_ \- gawping at it."

"I do not gawp." She said firmly.

"Oh sorry, no... you save that for me, prince charming!"

"I _will_ freeze your mouth."

"See! You can barely restrain yourself!" He was especially proud of that one.

"I'm not listening to you anymore, by the way." She said with cool indifference, standing at some distance with her hands laced in front of her.

It was a few seconds before she heard him stamping through the snow beside her. They stood quietly for a moment or two, looking up at the night sky. The northern lights where starting to fade a little, but their beauty was still a sight, and combined with the magnificent landscape before them, the view humbled their minds and soothed it. The bitter wind, always incessant, blew, causing snow to drift a little down the mountain. Elsa watched it with some detached interest and Hans feared they might become completely buried if they stood too long.

Only one shivered.

Hans lit a small fire in his hand and covered it as one would a candle flame. He watched the light seeping from between his fingers, like a lantern, onto the sparking snow. He waited, with some anticipation, for the shafts of warm orange to stir Elsa. She never did notice though, and if she did, made no acknowledgement. He crushed the flame in his hands.

"At least you know you can never hurt me." Hans said, his breath clouding in front of him.

Elsa turned now, looking at him with some surprise. "What?"

"...I thought you weren't listening to me." He had a small smile as he spoke. It was a strange thing when he smiled. Elsa couldn't tell exactly how or why; whether it was from genuine admiration, some secret joy or just cruel mockery. She attributed it to her own inability to decipher. Not for a moment did she consider perhaps it was him.

"I wasn't." Elsa replied. "I just happened to overhear you."

He grinned this time, and maybe he looked pleased. "Of course." A beat passed. "And what did her majesty have to think?"

She was quiet for long enough to make him slightly uneasy. His grin dropped and he turned to look at her, just catching the far-away look in her eyes before she stirred and suddenly announced that they should probably get going.

"Get going!" Hans cried, laughing a little. It echoed through the air with disturbing length.

"My _dear_ Queen Elsa, get going _where_? I can't go back to Arendelle, and neither can you."

She fixed him a fierce stare. "So what do you propose, _dear Hans_?" She replied bitterly. "We stay forever under a pine tree, arguing and irritating one another to an early grave?"

He looked somewhat offended, but said nothing. Elsa mentally added 'futile' to her list of Hans-descriptive words.

"I did not think to go to Arendelle." She explained in a softer, cooler authoritative tone. "But that we should find somewhere more suitable to hide. My palace is too dangerous now that the location is known."

Hans nodded "You're right, of course." His face was stony. The great graveness of the matter was heavily descending on them both. "We just seem to be lacking in any transport, since my steed was frightened off earlier."

Elsa thought she saw him slightly sad at this and endeavoured to comfort him a little. "I'm sorry. We might still be able to find him, if we try."

"I don't think it's very likely." He stated. This annoyed her. How could he be so matter-of-fact about it? So unwilling to hope? Not even a word of thanks to her in return, either.

"I know what you're thinking, Queen Elsa." He said a little drily. "But once you have borne as many disappointments in life as I have, you soon learn."

She was silent.

"I'm sure you know that."

 _Insufferable, hateful, cruel man._

 _And futile,_ she added after a moment.

 _To think he could've taken my little sister._

"I'll look for your horse" She stated rather impatiently. "You can just stay here and be miserable. Amuse yourself with your horrid thoughts. Maybe you'll freeze to death!" Elsa snarled, then stormed off in some random direction up the mountain. She was angry, very angery, but it was a type of anger which confused her, for it came from so many other emotions all she felt was a tangled mess. This prince was a dreadful catalyst to such a storm.

"I don't think so!" Hans yelled after her, tripping over himself to catch up with her billowing train and skirt.

Elsa whipped around, the wind carrying her braid and teasing a few escaped locks. He found himself stopped simply at the sight of her elegance and fierceness.

"Oh?" was all she said, a brow raised.

"Y-yes." Hans replied, then composing himself, declared "I would rather see you miserable too, your majesty, then bare it all by myself."

He came to face her, and added quickly, before she could get any more furious, "It's much less lonely that way."

She stared, determined to be hard, yet the glimmer of warmth in her eyes was not missed by him - just as she would predict so, and inwardly scold herself for being so weak for as they trekked together calling Sitrons name.

Elsa often hated herself, but she seemed to be regretting her every word, look and action in his presence. _How on earth did Anna come to like him! Of all people..._ She continued to scowl at this for a while, but serious worry for the horse soon softened her thunderous expression into one of compassion.

"I don't think I'll ever see him again." Hans said rather quietly after a half an hour of this. Elsa, despite how much she despised feeling sorry for him after all he'd done to scare and vex her, couldn't help grieve for him. The loss of a dear friend, family or beloved horse, is a pain no one should suffer.

"We haven't looked over there yet." She told him, taking his cuff and gently tugging him along. She knew he was shaking his head. She dared not think he might cry. It was indeed all too miserable, and she was even starting to think he was clever to suggest they should be together for it. It certainly made it a little more bearable.

For poor Sitron was no where to be found.

Hans had become increasingly perturbed and distressed the more time eclipsed without finding him. Elsa, although understanding it to be a natural reaction to such an event, was a little surprised. He had been so sure of his indifference earlier. Hadn't he himself professed to have suffered so much disappointment, it no longer affected him?

Elsa had, in the short period of their knowing each other, frequently suspected him of concealing. Maybe just as she would. This was one of those moments.

When he saw her looking at him like that, he confessed his reasoning. "You... made me hope. You seemed so passionate about it all of a sudden I wanted to believe you. I did believe you."

This answer, along with the visible misery on his face, sent Elsa into an inner turmoil. The words made her tender towards him for longer that she felt she had ever been. Thinking it was surely a crime to do nothing, she patted his arm briefly. Then, somewhat hesitantly, she wrapped her own loosely around it and walked along with him this way. He understood this to be her attempt at consolation and, after a difficult moment, he thanked her awkwardly and smiled a smile she hadn't seen yet

She understood this to be his attempt at gratitude.

"Your light show was very pretty on the snow earlier." Elsa said, a sly smile of her own forming.

Hans blinked down at her. Oh what a wonderful expression it was!

"I. Knew. It!" He burst suddenly, the moon-light illuminating his silly grin to no benefit.

Hans watched it bounce off her silver locks and she simply said, coolly.

"You really are an idiot Hans." And then she proceeded to smile quite pleased, and very annoyingly, for a long while.

Neither would admit how pleasant it was to walk arm in arm with someone. Elsa would only quietly note how he didn't flinch away from her. She wondered if this was because he was generally warmer, so did not feel much of her cold, or whether he didn't want to show his discomfort.

Remembering the feel of his hand, she hoped for the former.

Anna would always jump a little whenever she held hers. One time, she had started to cry. It had scared Elsa very much- It was her fault for not wearing the gloves, for forgetting they'd just been playing snow games. Her hand was still caked in ice. Anna was only little - she didn't know when not to hold her sisters hand. Mother and Father never touched her, except for a few short and slightly stiff hugs and a hand pat (with gloves, of course). They tried to pretend. But Elsa knew they where terrified lest they freeze to death holding their own daughter.

Elsa realised, with alarming intensity, just how starved of affection she was.

Hans certainly wont have missed it. She could see he was sharp and there was a manipulative nature to his speech, which until now she dared not to ponder too deeply. She noticed her hand wasn't too far from the blood stain.

Murder. For her.

Her hand became a little looser, a sour taste in her mouth all of a sudden. Her heart pounded as if it wanted escape. Oh, she shouldn't like murder, and yet she had been swept up by his valiance effortlessly. She had cried in his arms!

Hadn't she been just about to kill a man?

Elsa wished to run again. Far far away from anyone, and since she'd already achieved that, then all she could think she desired was to get away from him. For any hand holding hers seemed too much and his eyes where too strong. She knew he was looking at her. It still burned.

A little horrified, she thought of how she had purposely not addressed his powers. That would mean a higher level of understanding. It would mean she was acknowledging she was not the only one. It would mean they might possibly share some feelings of a delicate, emotional nature.

It made sense then; why she would not trust him, why she was so bent on disliking him.

Elsa wanted to be alone.

.


	5. The Tea cup, The Horse and The Spare

A/N: Wrote this a while back but took it down because I felt I'd rushed it. Redone it, finally. Hope someone enjoys this.

Discalimer: Frozen, and the Characters in it, belongs to Disney and the film creators. I have simply written this story as a fan who loves it very much.

* * *

 **Chapter five**

 _The Tea cup, The Horse, and The Spare_

.

Anna, being the high spirited, sweet tempered girl she was, would not complain about the aching that followed being frozen from the inside. But Kristoff knew she suffered. He saw it in the way her figure drooped under its own weight, the frailness she suddenly inhabited, and only he could tell that her bright eyes would become a little bit dimmer now and then. She winched and heaved dreadfully at any demanding movement, which seemed to occur rather often, as Anna insisted she was fine.

After their kiss, the alarming blueness of her skin had vanished almost instantly, and her hair was gradually turning back to red. She seemed her rosy cheeked self again, her smile brilliant and lovely, and in great joy, he scooped her up from the chaise with the intention of twirling her about. But when Anna buckled into his arms with a small cry, Kristoff instantly put her feet down on the carpet.

"Did it not work?" He asked urgently. Anna buried her head into his shoulder, breathing slowly.

"It has... I just... I think it's a side effect...'t's fine." She mumbled. Then as if nothing had happened, she jumped back timidly, smiled, and squealed in delight: "Kristoff! You love me!"

He laughed and, though not forgetting his concern, let the feeling wash over him freely as he gazed earnestly at her.

"I do."

There was an awkward pause as they both considered this reply. Kristoff could see the slight blush in her cheeks, the fire casting shadows about them and lighting up her eyes like a summer sky.

This silence was broken by Gerda, who appeared at the door with a tea cup as promised earlier. On seeing Anna alive and well, she gasped and there followed the unmistakable sound of smashing china. Anna and Kristoff started at the noise, though hadn't much time to react before Gerda exclaimed with such relief,

"Princess Anna! My dear!" and ran to give the girl a massive hug, china crunching under her clogs.

"I thought you would freeze to death! I couldn't bare it! Oh forgive me your highness, I seem to have gotten a bit carried away..." She cried, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Anna herself began to cry then, embracing the little women fiercely. The sudden feeling of care hit her with such force she could do nothing else.

Kristoff stood a little awkwardly by, completely forgotten by the two. This wasn't the chief of his thoughts however. It was Anna- always Anna- and how he worried this was not the end of her pain- and not only in the physical sense. Elsa was still gone into the mountains, now apparently with a murderer. He knew Anna would not be able to rest until she came back. He could give her all the love in the world, and she would still fear for her sister - so much that even her own pain would be eclipsed by it.

That much he knew for absolute certain.

"Your highness!" Called a voice.

All three looked up. Anna was removing herself from Gerdas embrace when a figure appeared at the door. It was one of the servants.

"A lone horse has appeared in the courtyard!" She said, breathlessly. "It is believed to belong to Prince Hans!"

This news frightened Anna immensely. She began to rush towards the door, desperately needing to confirm the sight for herself. If this was indeed Sitron, it could only mean Hans, and perhaps also Elsa, had been in some sort of danger. Before she had even made her third step however, Anna felt her legs weaken suddenly and she stumbled forward.

"Anna!" Kristoff cried, running across the room to catch her as she fell. "You're still not well, you need to sit by the fire."

"Please, I need to see if its Sitron." Anna whispered urgently, her hand grasping at the fur on his collar. "I'll be fine. It's just for a moment, I'll, I'll come straight back." She promised, gazing at him with wide eyes. Unable to deny her that, he nodded and let her go with some reluctance.

"Okay, but I'll be right behind you, alright?"

Anna beamed, the colour coming back to her cheeks. "Perfect."

.

The whinny of a horse came from the middle of a small gathering. The townsfolk were quite curious - any small development was cause for interest. It may thaw the winter. It may bring back the Queen. That was the collective conscience of the Arendelle citizens.

Even on her tiptoes Anna couldn't see the creature from the gate, and she was impatient to know, tugging at Kristoffs hand. He was leading her slowly by her waist, Gerda close behind. They were both terrified lest she start freezing again, and wouldn't allow her to run dramatically outside as she had originally planned.

"Hey now, feisty-pants." Kristoff said in a fond, gentle manner. "Take it easy, we're almost there."

Anna pouted at him. "I'm fine! Can we please walk faster?" She whined, tugging at his hand again and jumping.

"It's the Princess!" Someone whispered, causing several others to turn and gawp.

"She's alive!" Said another.

Anna saw smiles and astonished faces. One or two children peaked out from behind their mothers skirts with curious stares. The crowd unconsciously parted to let her through and unable to help herself, Anna sped forward out of Kristoffs hold.

Her stomach dropped when she saw Sitron plainly in front of her. Slowly, she stepped forward, putting her hand on his caramel snout.

"Hey there," she spoke quietly. "Thanks for coming back."

The horse blew at her affectionately, then threw his mane toward the North Mountain, whinnying urgently. Tears began to gather in her eyes, the cold winter air suddenly biting, and a dreadful ache claimed her chest. She was aware of Kristoff coming up beside her, and turned to sink into his arms. Anna was utterly distraught. Of course there wouldn't be anyone riding Sitron - the servant had said it was lone. And yet, hope still beckons the quivering soul like a Siren singing to a drowning sailor. Maybe they could've been running after him... maybe it was the wrong horse... she breathed raggedly.

The crowd fell quiet, looking solemnly on at their beloved princess. Kristoff quietly rubbed her back with his mitten clad hand.

"Anna." He said lowly after a moment of simply distance wind. She looked up at him, sensing a edge to his voice. His face was titled toward the castle, from whence The Duke of Weaselton was marching toward them. Oh, great. Is he still here? Of course he's still here Anna, the fjord is frozen. Everyone is still here... and they are angry... they are all looking to her.

She shivered.

"They must be dead!" The Duke cried with glee. A knife to cut through the silent silent chill. Immediately, people erupted. Citizens gasped and muttered frantically ( _"the queen?" "Oh my! We shall all perish!" "well, she did ask for it.." "Harold!" et cetera..._ ) Anna looked absolutely horrified, and Kristoff gave him the dirtiest look on earth.

The Duke shrank into himself, sheepish in the chaos. Surprisingly, since he's such a nasty little creature, the Duke had some pleasantries hammered into his skull from when he was an even smaller fiend.

And so, he attempted to compose himself, clearing his throat and straightening his jacket. Gazes turned to him, some curious, some angry. "I mean to say, your highness... it is a possibility." The Duke stated a little awkwardly. Then under his breath muttered, "that I wouldn't mind."

A thick fog of unease fell. Some might tell you it came from the mountains, that it was in the very atoms of the snow, woven in an intricate web of crystals.

"Take him too the stables." Anna suddenly said in a whisper, addressing the guards who had followed. They began to advance upon the Duke, who suddenly looked quite alarmed.

"The horse!" She called, trying not to laugh. There where some small chuckles, like a tentative step onto a frozen lake. Sitron huffed in something like despair.

Anna had her own pale smile, shaking her head in a way she'd seen Elsa do at the Coronation.

"I meant the horse!"

The guards shot each other embarrassed looks. Some where quite young, barely 18. "Of-of course, Princess."

Anna watched one of the older ones shrug, "easy mistake," and the giggles of the children could be heard in response, muffling their joy with their sleeves. The mothers seemed relieved. Anna thought maybe laughter wasn't as common, now. It hit her somewhere deep inside, something like understanding.

The Duke, who was utterly offended, smoothed his taupe and sniffed, "I see Arendelle has quite a keen sense of humour. This is the second time I have been associated with an animal."

He only got redder as they giggled again.

.

Sven had been taken to the stables when they'd first arrived, given all the carrots he could eat and was arguably the most comfortable of the lot. Three hours later, Kristoff stomped in and sat by him on a bale of hay, chin in hand. Sven huffed at him, then sniffed his hair.

He hadn't had much time to talk more with Anna after they'd seen Sitron, for the Princess' attention was wanted by many other, more important people, apparently. His many attempts and failures at getting her attention over the next day and a half had left him dejected, and he had resorted to sadly moping over to the stables.

Sven was very understanding.

The Duke of Weselton in particular had insisted on questioning the girl on every little matter. He was like a hare the way he skirted down the hallway after her, "your highness can I just-" This and "if you please!-" That. Kristoff could see Anna disliked him the most, but he was such a little twat that he pressured her into talking. From him, this wasn't very surprising, but the attitude of the other stranded Nobels was utterly disgraceful. Such unveiled arrogance swarmed this castle. How could they be so selfish? Couldn't they see Anna was still recovering?

Somewhere in Arendelle, a clock tower rung out Seven.

.

Anna watched the hand of a handsome old grandfather clock strike seven. The moon shone through a tall arched window at the far end of the grand hall, swollen in the sky. Lamps lit the rest of it, casting an unsettling flickering sort of light over the blue paleness.

The Duke had succeeded in his endeavour and was currently terrorising everyone in the chamber.

It was like court trial, the way he accused and jabbed at everyone in the room. He was particularly venomous to the Princess.

"You left us in the care of another monster!" He spat, clenching gloved hands.

Anna was distressed, and rage was _this_ close to exploding. But she choose to be civil... she had to fix this. She clasped her hands in front of her, much like she'd seen Elsa do, and calmly told him she only knew Hans to be a kind, sensible prince.

Despite the air of serenity, doubt tugged at her in a peculiar way.

 _He did kill someone..._

 _For Elsa..._

 _He's a murderer..._

 _He saved my sister..._

 _I almost married him..._

The Duke scoffed. "You barely even knew him!"

It was like his filthy little fingers had somehow pried into her mind and pressed down where it most hurt. Her heart felt jabbed by a million pins.

"Well, then I can hardly judge him for a murder I am not certain of." She continued, cautious lest her voice betray her.

"Judge! There is nothing _to_ judge! Prince Hans has committed murder!" (Anna swallowed.) "There are witnesses! He must be charged for what he has done!" The Duke screeched, banging his bony fist on the table.

The idea of charging anyone made her feel a little nauseous, and she didn't know what to do. She felt like a child given a plastic crown. The Duke had much more leverage against her, probably a ton of experience, and Anna? Anna had only just returned from having her heart frozen.

"There will be no charging!" She said quickly, causing a few glances. Noting this, she added: "-until I have fully assessed the matter." Taking a breath, she said in the most Elsa-way she could recall, "I am the Princess."

"And?" The Duke said impatiently, cutting off the end of her speech, dashing her courage to the ground.

Think Anna. You have to help Elsa. You have to fix this. You have to prove... yourself...

Her eyes fluttered to the swaying pendulum of the grandfather clock.

"You haven't given me enough time." She said.

The Duke pursed his lips, allowing her to go on. His kind always fall quiet when their opponents are correct, Anna thought with a hint of smugness.

"Prince Hans is not currently with us, so how can you expect me to do anything to him? I have also not spoken to the witnesses myself, which must be done first." At this, there where murmurs of approval. It gave her an extra dose of confidence, and speaking from her heart now she continued,

"My prime concern is to find both Queen Elsa and Prince Hans, and bring them back safely. This is a kingdom, we should protect and care for whomever is in it, _before_ judging them for crimes."

The Duke eyed her. He clearly thought she was ridiculous. Anna tried not to let it get to her, thought of Kristoff instead- his sweet grin in the firelight.

"How do you propose we do that, your highness?"

Anna paused at this. She hadn't as of yet fully formed a plan, and the idea of going back into the cold so soon after nearly dying seemed a little daunting all of a sudden.

"Leave it to me." She said, a little uncertainly. "But I don't think you will be required, Duke Weselton."

The Duke spluttered speechlessly, his face contorting for several seconds. This was incredibly amusing and Anna had to bite her lip from laughing. For all his arrogance, he really was a funny thing.

Then he exploded.

"You are all mad! Every single one of you! This Kingdom is cursed!" His face had turned scarlet as he threw his finger out, accusing, blaming, manipulating.

"Yes, Duke, that does seem to be the issue." A dry voice muttered in the back. A few sniggers followed, and the spindly man glared his beady eyes around the chamber, silencing them. Anna, unable to help it any longer, started to laugh quietly, but immediately straightened her face as soon as his eyes snapped back to her.

"This is all the doing of that-that _Witch_ , Queen Elsa." He said poisonously. "She should be killed for treason. She is the reason we are all suffering!"

Anna tried not to think of the pain coursing through her limbs.

Murmurs began to fill the room then, and, to Anna's alarm, there was some vague agreement amongst the crowd. She turned to look at the Duke, her heart suddenly in her throat. As she did so, his moustache curved into a slow, cruel smile. Anna glared at him, her hands trembling violently. He seemed to be taunting her, clawing into her head again, making her squirm.

 _You don't know what you're doing._

 _You're just the spare._

Then, with his impossibly long, hideous legs, The Duke of Weselton strode from the room.

The 'meeting' was adjourned.

All the nobility and advisers and whomever else came to scrutinise her, all shuffled out with clumsy strides, muttering away. It was an awful, low blanket of sound and not one of them turned to greet her. Anna couldn't help but feel incredibly alone. Simply by association, she was shunned.

The door shut in her face, and the Princess burst into tears.

* * *

A/N: "Just the spare" is an outtake song from frozen. I recommend you give it a listen if you haven't already done so. Cheers!


	6. Buried in the snow

A/N: I had fun with this. A bit of Hans P.O.V. Thank you for your lovely reviews! In response to your questions- you'll have to keep reading. :)

* * *

 **Chapter six**

 _Buried in the snow_

.

She was starting to mess with his plans.

At this point, Hans wasn't sure _where_ his plan was anymore, let alone what. Probably somewhere under the snow, like everything else in this place. Even Elsa looked as if she was buried in it, being a glorious pale white all over - except for that teal shock of her astonishingly glittery dress, clinging to her like a sheet of frost. Her eyes where the strangest blue he'd ever seen, both gentle and hard with a hint of grey. That pretty much summed her up, really. If that was possible.

He peered down to her at his side. Her cold little grip on his arm had loosened. She looked vacant again, her purple lips falling apart slightly. It was quite different from her look of trembling, tortured fear back in that ice palace, but not too dissimilar. He... tried not to let it worry him. After all, her fear alone had compelled him, like an absolute idiot, to throw his carefully constructed plot out of the window. Hurled into the mountains. Shattered.

And she was clever. Sharp as a sword, observant, intelligent - although, ironically, she didn't seem to be very aware of it. She _knew_ what he wanted. She confronted him! The shock of it had made him so bitter he even explicitly said the word 'marry'. How embarrassing. He could hear his brothers taunting all the way from the Southern Isles.

How _does_ one sum up such a strange Queen, anyway?

It was severely bothering him. Usually, he could pinpoint someone within seconds of meeting them. Anna had basically had it written on her skin, her obvious desperation for love leaking from her awkwardness. (Not that it mattered anymore, that engagement seemed unlikely now, since he could never go back.)

But Elsa... Elsa was a quickly shut book, padlocked, barely allowing a glimpse. He had a feeling she wanted it to be that way. Aside from her sporadic crying and yelling, she hardly said much. It wasn't too bizarre. Who wouldn't be a nervous wreck after being locked away for years, hiding a terrible secret, loathing yourself for it? Hadn't she hurt her sister or something? The rumours where a little vague. She was only young, when they locked her away. He remembered hearing of it when he was around the same age. He remembered considering the Princess of Arendelle from his little tower bedroom. (He never guessed 'Snow Queen')

Being young makes fear an atmosphere rather than just an emotion. Oh, that's another thing. He was actually relating to her now and then.

And she wouldn't even ask him about his powers. For these reasons, he found himself despising her.

 _Just tell me what you know, you breathtaking creature._

...Sometimes despising her.

To be completely honest, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on. Hans shook his head as if to knock some sense into it. He was here to claim the throne. The one that would probably belong to Anna...

Maybe all wasn't lost, he desperately told himself. Maybe he could somehow save Elsa and this whole kingdom, have her smiling serenely with that lovely tiara on her head. But there was the matter of that stupid Duke. He had probably spread the word of Hans' crime all over.

Hans had never killed anyone on purpose before.

It was looking like a lost cause. God, this was all just... tragic.

They were still looking for his horse. She had been more kind than he deserved, staying by his side, muttering things like "maybe just around this corner." or "he might be looking for you." Hans quietly wondered where he might've gone off too, somewhat hoping and dreading it to be Arendelle. They wouldn't look after him like he did and Hans couldn't really waltz in, grab his horse and be off. But at least he would be safe.

 _I hope you're alright, boy..._

There was a shift in the air, like frost breaking beneath your feet.

Hans' brows rose. He looked down at Elsa again, as if she would explain, but she made no reaction. With slight horror, he began to wonder if she really couldn't thaw this winter. He was about to ask her when a painfully bitter wind swept past them all of a sudden. It was half as strange as the Queen. The wind itself seemed to pulse, like it had a soul. That's... normal... on a mountain... in a cursed winter. Right?

Moments later, a snow blizzard blasted across Hans' vision. The force of it nearly knocked him over. He scrambled to grab Elsa's hand with his free one, only to find his arm empty. His heart stopped.

"Your majesty?" He said urgently, squinting through the white mess. No response.

"ELSA!" He bellowed, spinning a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, then blindly grappling at the air around him. _How.. how dare she! How dare she just... abandon me!_

His rage soon dissolved, however, when he realised the sheer amount of fear she must have felt to do that to him. Hans had already discerned her emotions elevated the effects of this curse - it wasn't too difficult to piece together. His own fire had worked in a similar way. His own stupid, awful, guilty fire... fire that didn't seem so awful when she couldn't look away.

But now, he was alone.

He knew she didn't particularly like him, but still... it stung a little.

.

.

She ran.

She ran until it hit her, her legs screaming with the burn of escape. This was her life now... running whenever people stepped near. Elsa could barely handle that thought, stumbling a little in her retreat, a small sob bubbling from inside. Anna would be disgusted. _You left him to die, Elsa._

Somehow, the poisonous words didn't fit Anna. Imagining the weight of them hurt nonetheless. It was the notion that suffocated Elsa. Anna may not have realised the truth about Hans - she is too sweet, too unused to looking for the bad in people, but that didn't mean Elsa had the right to decide his fate for her. Even if Elsa knew him far more in just a few hours. Even if she had a bad feeling the moment Anna presented him as her fiancé.

Hans was a manipulative, dark, troubled man. Every time she looked at him she had felt it coursing through her, some kind of hot sharp edge that came beneath his honey-like charm. He constantly switched between regal and brutal like some broken radio or a flickering light. Elsa didn't want to be like him, this charming, greedy Prince.

But she was.

In some awful, twisted way, she was. Not in his manners. No, it was in that arrow that had pierced her core, _don't be the monster..._

He understood. With something akin to defeat, she had accepted this.

The Queen of Arendelle sank into her own snow behind a large, jutting rock covered in moss. She drew her translucent cape around her like a blanket, eyes wide. Her snow storm swirled beyond a wide exclusion zone around her, as if she were in an inverted snow-globe. Elsa remained in her own little pocket of quiet for a few moments, staring at the stars and listening to the trees rustle, until the wind dropped along with her heartbeat. It'd take him some time for him to find her - if he even could, that is.

Despite her guilt, she was alone...like she'd wanted. Which allowed her to finally _think._ There was no more annoying buzz, no presence to suck the energy from her. She set her chin on her knees and furrowed her brows, lips pursed.

Her thoughts drifted to Anna, as they often did, and she worried about everything else instead. The winter. The hurt. The sorrow.

But then she started thinking about him.

Where on _Earth_ did he get those powers from? Was he born with them? Did he mean to harm her or the kingdom with them? But then, why marry Anna, just to burn down a palace? That didn't seem right. Perhaps he simply wanted the power... but what more power did one need more than the ability to produce fire from the palms of his hands?

Worst of all, she wondered how he handled it. Did he too hate himself for it? Fire was a lot more chaotic than ice...

A sudden snap made her jump. For a moment she thought maybe he'd already found her, but a quick glance to her right showed it to be a fallen tree branch. A single, small purple bloom remained on it, perfectly preserved in ice. She'd obliviously started up a mini storm above her, thick snow piling itself onto her head as the seconds went by. The branch had broken from too much weight.

 _Stupid Prince._

Elsa reached out, and picked the flower.

.

.

For the first time in his life, Hans realised just how lucky he was to live in the Southern Isles. It was always considerably warm, never cold enough for frostbite or any of that debacle. His mother would sunbathe on the castle roof. His brothers would throw buckets of water at one another to cool off, laughing and shrieking. The plaza was always full of stalls holding summer fruits and sweet wines.

Here, in the midst of an unnatural Winter, Hans could barely walk for the uncomfortable feeling in his toes. Where they even there anymore? If he took off his boot and tipped it upside down, would they fall out? Why, oh why would the fire not reach down there...his upper body was lovely and toasty.

Then again, curses aren't known for their convenience.

On numerous occasions he had found himself unaware of how far he'd wandered, caught up in thought - ultimately walking into a few trees. He kept wondering if Elsa was okay, forgetting her tolerance for the cold. She could dunk herself into a icy lake and come out perfectly fine. Better not think of that, actually. Spitting a pine needle from his mouth for what felt like the hundredth time, Hans decided enough was enough.

If she wanted to be alone and afraid, what did he care? She was no use anyway. Not when she was an traitor too.

However, even as he stomped in the 'opposite' direction, he knew this wasn't about her. She was perfectly capable of handling herself - she'd built an actual castle out of Ice for Christ's sake! No, _Hans_ didn't want to be afraid or alone. What was it he said earlier? I'd rather be miserable with you? Something like that...

His angry stomping, which was completely useless due to the fact no one was actually there to see it, slowed to a dragging walk. Come to think of it, he was exhausted. The wind had died down hours ago, meaning Elsa was either calm or asleep. Maybe he could take a moment to rest, then start looking again in a bit.

Hans approached a small cliff edge and nestled himself against a large, thick rock, back flat against the surface. The snow was almost soft beneath him, although he knew after a while it would become compact and uncomfortable, and most likely freeze him to death if he slept. He stood to reach for a few small twigs nearby, then sat back down and arranged them on a smaller rock, alighting them with his finger to create a small fire. It crackled soothingly. Tilting his chin, he watched the sky become a faint peach in the distance. It would be morning soon. How long would he have to wander the mountains? Would Elsa even want to go with him?

As he fretted, the smell of burning wood filled his senses and he drifted off into a light sleep.

Hans awoke to the odd feeling of water scattering his face. He was temporarily blinded as a snowflake hit his eye. When he regained sight, he saw that the fire was out, a pile of snow dumped on it. It was snowing, then. That's not weird, considering the conditions.

What was weird is that it was only snowing on him.

He leapt to his feet instantly, suddenly alert. Only one person could do that.

 _Elsa._

Where could she be? She had to be nearby for the flurry to be affecting him, too. Hans scrambled about himself, peering under trees and scrutinising a passing squirrel as if it would speak. 'Elsa, my dear fellow, is over there.' No luck.

Just as he was about to lose his mind, a small snore echoed from behind the rock.

No... really? How long...? Had they really been sat back to back this whole time?

Hans slowly stepped around the side of their divider, gloved hand trailing across the moss, cautious lest it end up being someone else. To say he saw Elsa would be a lie. What he did see was an Elsa shaped pile of snow.

At first, he thought maybe she was hiding from him, burying herself in the snow like some sort of survivalist. After a moment of gawping, he realised that this was simply the accumulation of her flurry - of which was still determinedly showering them both with snowflakes. Hans laughed, his breath clouding in front of him.

The sound made Elsa jump, causing the snow to fall from her face. She peered up at him, blinking in surprise as another lot fell from her head.

"Prince Hans... did you... did you bury me?" She said, sounding somewhat horrified, then shook her arms free, brows furrowed in confusion.

He bent down, smiling slightly, and brushed some of the snow from her hair with a flick of his hand.

"No, Elsa. I did not bury you in the snow." He pointed to the cloud above them. Elsa acknowledged this, her mouth forming a silent 'oh'.

Then, as if realising something, she scowled at him.

 _"Elsa?"_ One delicate brow rose.

Hans rolled his eyes and for the billionth time, corrected himself.

 _"Your majesty."_

"Thank you." She said, pleased. Her majesty then attempted to stand, only to trip over her own train with a yelp. She lay in the snow for a few minutes, sighing. "Just another day, I suppose."

Hans, who was quite poorly concealing his mirth, held out a hand in a Princely manner, the other tucked behind him. He had an annoyingly smug little grin. Elsa accepted the hand sourly and let him pull her to her feet, snow falling from behind her. She brushed the remains from her behind hastily, her cheeks reddening slightly.

He noticed the flower sparkling in her braid, then. His eyes rested on it for a moment before meeting her bright ones. Her hand slipped from his.

"Are you alright?" He asked. Elsa hesitated, taken by the sincerity of it. She seemed to be waiting for a trick. Hans only continued to stare at her, concerned. He wasn't surprised she didn't believe him.

She straightened her back, turned her head away, "Yes." Then, glancing back at him for a brief moment, "Thanks."

He nodded. They stood somewhat awkwardly for a few minutes, neither knowing what to say.

"Sorry about... running away." Elsa said quietly, breaking the silence. Her foot traced a circle in the snow.

"It's fine." Hans replied, rubbing his thumbs together. "I know I'm not the best of company. I apologise."

She blushed deeply in embarrassment. The contrast between magenta and ivory was somewhat charming. He wondered if she was waiting to run again, if she'd force him to leave her alone.

"N-no, It's not... I... I've just been rather overwhelmed lately... ya know..." Her arms rose, gesturing vaguely around her - to the whitewashed land, the frost covered surfaces. A quick gust of wind blew by as if on cue, sweeping her skirt forward and back. Arendelle was a speck in the distance.

Her eyes met his, seriously. "Then you showed me your powers."

Oh.

Hans didn't know what to say. He didn't even know why he showed her them, to be honest. It was very unlike him. Really, he liked her being mad at him, glaring back at him. He imagined her fierce, shoving him away, and for some reason he enjoyed it... But He just couldn't help himself - her face was utterly priceless.

"I've been thinking." He said, instead.

"What?" She said, an expression of fear and... _something else_ passing over her face for a moment.

Hans considered this before enlightening her. "Why don't you just build another secret ice castle? Just for somewhere too stay whilst we try and figure this whole thing out."

Elsa stared. Hans had never known someone who stared half as much as her. Silence became her like a cloak.

"You mean to tell me." She began, slowly. "That you actually want to help me?"

Her unwavering, cool gaze seemed to be peering right into his soul. _lie to me._ It said. _Go on and try._

Hans shifted his weight to his right leg.

"I saved you from that army, didn't I?" Elsa pursed her lips. He continued, taking a step closer. "And... forgive me but... it's unlikely that anyone else is going to be very happy with you, now that you've caused an eternal winter _and_ tried to kill someone."

"That's not true!" She snarled all of a sudden. Her face was inches from his. "Anna..."

"Anna already set off, moments after you fled. She never returned."

 _Never_

 _Returned_

The snowflakes stopped, mid-air. She dropped a step back.

"What?"

"We came to look for her, _your Majesty_. Her horse came back without her."

Elsa blinked, then shook her head. "When was this!?" she demanded.

"Yesterday, a few hours before... we met."

Anna had... never returned. Elsa couldn't understand why. She physically could not comprehend it - her brain would not allow it. Anna _had_ to be safe. She had told her to go herself, even summoned a monster she recalled, with some guilt. Could something have happened to her on the way back? The thought made her veins freeze up.

Or maybe, Hans was just playing with her emotions.

"Anna came to my castle. She was with a... mountain man. I assume he was relatively accustomed with the routes and safety measures." She said defiantly, looking up at Hans with authority. Her heart was skittering about her chest like rabbit.

Hans seemed offended, catching the accusation in her tone. He snarled a little in response.

"Then where is she? Anything can happen. _You_ know that."

Elsa flinched. "She might be in Arendelle right now! We don't know!"

"Yes, exactly!" Hans retorted, taking a bold step toward her again. He put his hands on straight her shoulders. Elsa was too confused to react, too plagued with worry for Anna to deny any type of comfort, even from the person who had ignited her anxiety.

" _Elsa-"_ He said, voice smooth and meaningful. "-Your majesty...We don't know."

Elsa looked down, wrapped her arms around her middle.

 _Maybe he just can't help saying my name..._

She sighed.

 _Don't be ridiculous. He's being impolite._

His hands moved with her shoulders as she exhaled, thumb shifting ever so slightly. The weight calmed her, as if she was being grounded to earth. An anchor to stop her mind from floating away. The feeling of being touched was now no longer a distant memory. Maybe there was hope for her after all.

When she met his eyes again, she felt fearless. It was oddly freeing. Like running up that mountain on the first night of escape.

"I guess we better get started on that castle, then."


	7. Wicked Soul

A/N: You don't know how excited I am to share this chapter. May contain disturbing scenes (15 age rating as a guideline.) The poems are my own. :)

* * *

 **Chapter seven**

 _Wicked soul_

 _._

 _In and out_  
 _Count to ten_  
 _You are reborn_  
 _All over again_

.

"Stop it!" Hans cried. He was Eleven years old.

His brother Andersen was Sixteen years old. He was the second youngest of thirteen. He had the same fiery red hair as him, the same green eyes, only his where flecked with gold that gleamed predator-like in the candle light.

Andersen was destroying Hans' favourite book.

"Stop it! Please!" Hans pleaded, tears streaming down his cheeks. His eyes where blown huge with fright and distress, powerless as his brothers long fingers tore away page after page.

 _Rippp_

 _Rippp_

 _Rippp_

Andersen sniggered. "You're pathetic, you know? Mother is the only person who likes you. You can't even get real friends, so you just read this _garbage_."

Hans watched the pages flutter to the ground, silent and pale.

"You are _nothing_." Andersen sneered.

Something broke inside Hans then, something at his very core. It was as if his soul was like a twig, snapped in two, and instead of pain he simply felt _anger_. His brother laughed as Hans growled, small fists balling up inside his tweed jacket sleeves.

Hans saw the double candlestick, propped onto the table in the hall. The flames seemed to beckon him, and before he knew what he was doing, Hans ran over and grabbed it by it's brass middle. Wax dripped down onto his childish fingers, scalding them. He didn't seem to feel it, being extremely one-track minded in that moment. He glared at his brother, who only begun to laugh harder at the little boy who barely seemed intimidating in his oversized jacket.

Andersen scrunched up a page in one hand and grinned. It was an awful, menacing grin, cast into shadows by the candle.

Hans ran at him... and thrust the flames into his cheek.

There was a disturbing hiss.

Andersen screamed.

Hans kept going, deaf to his brothers pleading, pushing the slick, melting sticks into his skin.

"HANS!" Cried a female voice from the other end of the hall. It was his mother. She sounded absolutely furious. Her delicate voice had distorted into an ugly sharpness, no longer the sweet, smooth pitch that would sing him to sleep.

The small boy looked up, terrified as he registered what he'd just _done_. The deformed candles dropped from his fingers, now extinguished, and rolled across the floor over his maimed book pages. Andersen begun to cry, clawing at his face which was blistering horrifically.

A navy satin skirt obscured Hans' view momentarily, swishing past his ankles. He saw The Queen kneel on the floor, her back to him, cradling her second youngest son.

"I'm sorry." Hans whimpered, his own tears appearing.

His mother turned and looked at him with piercing emerald eyes. She didn't look angry... just sad. Somehow that was worse.

"Oh, Hans." She breathed.

He could see Andersen writhing.

Hans couldn't stand there any longer, or he would drown within that sorrowful, disappointed gaze and _break_.

The youngest Prince of The Southern Isles turned and sprinted, his heart hammering in his ears all the way up to his room.

 ** _._**

 ** _Twelve months later_**

Hans was pouting.

Sat on his bed, he gazed longingly across the room to the balcony windows overlooking the grounds from his tower bedroom. The sky was a deep blue.

 _(blue, like navy satin swishing in his view_ )

The stars blinked across it.

From below, sounds of polished laughter and hushed chatter rose amongst the playing of a violin. He could almost smell the atmosphere, the rich wines, the aroma of chocolate mingled with tobacco. There might even be princesses there, lovely in all their finery and ringing laughter.

But Hans wasn't allowed to join his eldest brothers wedding party. The royal physician had advised against it, deeming Hans to be still _"Too emotionally sensitive and traumatised to be around his brothers, or large crowds for that matter. Certainly not sweet princesses."_

Andersen had smirked across the room at him, his right cheek a grotesque red entanglement of skin. Hans wondered if that's why he smirked rather than grinned like he used too - because it pained him.

Hans didn't regret what he'd done. He only regretted that his Mother _saw_ him do it.

His brothers had never been very kind to him. Mother told him it was because he was innocent. Hans didn't really get this at the time, on account he was only five when she said it. He nodded anyway, convinced his mothers words where the universal truth.

His father died when he was born.

Hans thought maybe that's really why they hated him. Unlucky thirteen, caused his father to perish on sight.

Because they did. They hated him. He saw it in their eyes. Not that his father was that great a king, having three wives and not even bothering to divorce before he went ahead and made more unfortunate princes. But he supposed he _was_ their father.

Hans' mother loved him the most of all her five children.

( _Had loved him. Now he was a disappointment._ )

She'd called him her little comfort. Hans figured out later that she meant comfort in her husbands death.

But younger Hans had took advantage of this now and then - to the irritation of his brothers. _If they hated me, I'll hate them back_ , he'd concluded with the logic of a child. So whenever he felt particularity victimised, he set them up, knowing full well the Queen would never believe her sweet little Hans to be the culprit. He charmed his way out of every bad situation.

Not anymore.

Suddenly full of ire, Hans stood and crossed the room with small, precise steps. He stopped at the windows and looked out, watching the trees rustle in the December gale. Saturday, two weeks from now, would be his Twelfth birthday. He'd be old enough to start learning the proper things from his tutors. Algebra, sword fighting... how to run a country. Not that it would ever come in handy, certainly not while he was stuck in his room unable to do anything about his _position_. It was all that he knew.

He suddenly had the desire to escape. Giddy, Hans lifted the window off its latch at thew the huge glass panes apart. An abnormally bitter-cold wind hit his face. It almost hurt. Grabbing his cloak and riding boots, Hans resolved to step onto the balcony. To his left, a small flight of stone steps led down onto the lower roof. They crumbled a little under his feet but he felt no fear. He'd done this before.

Once he reached the roof he climbed over the stone barricade and used the veranda in the Garden below in order to reach the ground. The grass was wet with rain, but it was warm as always. He found it odd, recalling the freezing wind up in his room, but having skipped most of his geography lessons he hadn't the sharpest mind when it came to weather. He thought _'maybe it was colder up_ _there'_ and moved on, getting on his hands and knees to crawl through a gap in the neatly cut hedges.

Then he stood up and ran, twigs in his hair, black cloak flying behind him. The castle grounds where wide and expansive, going downhill. He laughed as he sped down the wet slope and was utterly overjoyed when it begun to snow lightly. It wouldn't settle, it was too warm, but Hans could still catch the snowflakes in his mouth.

Enamoured by the snow and his joy, Hans did not think of the advice he'd once be given. From his Mother. In a time when no one thought he was a maniac.

 _Never go into the woods below the castle at night._

Running at full speed, he went into the woods below the castle. At night.

Next thing he knew, he was quite lost.

There was nothing scary about the woods. They where just regular woods, tall trees and leafy grounds, rabbits or badgers peering out now and then. That's what he'd thought, all arrogant and smug, as he wandered through them that night. The moonlight was a guide, shining down a path for him to tread. He was lucky it was a cloudless tonight, because otherwise he'd be _irrevocably_ lost.

He picked up a stick and held it high like a sword.

It wasn't scary.

Until he saw her.

She was hovering a meter off the ground, suspended above a large, mud-stained rock. Vines grew up the trees beside her; tangled, snarled, knotted vines that reminded him of his brothers face. Her hair was slick black, that too coated in mud and entangled with thorns. She donned a dress of dirty white, which hung past her feet and dissolved into the air.

Hans forgot how to breathe.

 _('You must never be wicked. And you must never go into the woods below the castle at night. You might meet Moira.')_

Her filthy arms extended towards him. Her eyes where bright white, blinding, staring straight into him.

 _('Who's that mamma?')_

 _('She's a witch. She will punish you if you are not careful, my little comfort')_

Moira spoke. Her words where like splintering wood in his ears.

"Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. Thirteen in line to the Throne."

Hans was shaking uncontrollably. He tried to run but found his feet where _literally_ rooted to the ground, with thick vines curled around his ankles.

 _('Where did she come from? Can't you make her go away?')_

 _('Hush now, don't get hysterical. Some things are beyond my reach, but as long as you are good and stay away from the woods, everything will be okay.')_

"W-what do you want?' Hans choked.

She ignored him. "You have done great evil for such a small boy."

He shook his head, tears spilling over his lashes. "No-no you're wrong. I haven't!"

"Liar."

Her gaze was penetrating. She knew the truth. She knew all his truths, all his deepest fears, and there was no running from her. The snow had ceased and a muggy dampness filled the air, seeping through his skin and making him squirm.

 _('Okay, I promise, Mamma. I will always be good.')_

"You will be punished for your wicked soul."

"Please... don't hurt me!"

As he cried these words, a surge of fire erupted from her screaming face and swallowed him. It seemed to fill his veins and liquefy in his heart. His skin became sodden with sweat as the heat escalated. _I'm going to die,_ he thought, and he fell on his knees, tears rushing down his face.

The fire crawled into his bones as he cried out in agony.

 _..._

Green eyes opened to pitch black. The moon was gone.

So was the Witch.

Hans was on his back. He could feel the mud beneath him, soaking through his cloak and shorts, unpleasant against his legs. With a squelch, he pulled himself upright.

 _Am I dead?_ He thought.

He flexed his gloved hands. No doubt the pure white cotton would be caked in mud, too. Hans begun to peel them off, scrunching his nose at the feel of it. A soft breeze ruffled his hair. The dampness was gone too, leaving only the luke-warm air of the Southern Isles winter.

He didn't feel dead, but then again, how would he know what that felt like?

Hans balled up the gloves and shoved them in his pocket. He rose to his feet, almost slipping up on the mud. He didn't remember it being this muddy before, either. There was absolutely no light. He squinted into the nothing, hoping his eyes might adjust, or that some miraculous instance would occur and save him. He was badly shaken and wished more than anything to be back in his bedroom, reading or making paper air planes, anything _anything_ but here.

Stumbling forward, Hans reached out to find a tree. Oddly enough, there weren't any. He was certain that he'd been stood right next to one when... she appeared.

His heart rate picked up at the thought, tremors running through his entire body. He was terrified and alone and it was dark and he had been _punished._

Maybe this was the punishment, he thought, his heart rate increasing further until he felt like a hummingbird. He was lost forever in perpetual darkness. He would never see his home again or his Mother, or ride Sitron across the fields until sunset.

His fear and sorrow became greater and greater until something miraculous _did_ happen.

 _Fire._

Fire erupted from his hands.

Fire, as bright as Moira's eyes, dancing in the palms of the youngest Prince of the Southern Isles.

The darkness was broken, and that's when he realised he was not standing in mud, but sodden black _ash._

And in the large circle which he stood...

Every tree was reduced to smithereens.

 _..._

 _A curse. It's a curse._

Hans ran to the edge of the tree line, fire blazing from his hands. As soon as he stepped within it, the moon came back like a light bulb. His fire begun to catch onto his cloak and he panicked, running madly around until he saw a puddle from the earlier rain, and dunked his hands into it. In it's reflection, his face was streaked with ash.

( _There was a disturbing hiss_ )

He stumbled back home, panting and dripping with sweat, stuffed his singed cloak under his bed, scrubbed madly at his face and legs, all as a single thought ran through his head.

 _No one can know._

.

His Twelfth birthday was awful.

Sitting at the end of a long dinner table, Hans wished he could vanish every time someone mentioned his 'issues'. Which was about every five minutes.

The royal physician had _ever so kindly_ allowed him to have his usual birthday meal (as long as he was watched by guards the entire time, of course.)

His brothers where their usual selves, fighting over chicken drumsticks and throwing food at one another when the Queen wasn't looking. Andersen sat five seats away from him, his bad cheek toward him - _probably on purpose_ , Hans thought, bitterly.

His Mother sat at the far end. She gave him sad, almost pitying looks the entire time, bright eyes drooping. Hans fidgeted through his meal, constantly adjusting his gloves and fearing the worst; that he would erupt.

He tried to stay stoic, having discerned that his fear had made the fire flare up that night in the woods. Hans spent hours in his room after that, doing everything to put the event from his mind. He convinced himself that was another Hans back there, and what remained was a Prince who had done nothing wrong, a charming, perfect Prince. It seemed to work, being someone else. Rebirth.

The meal was rather uneventful, and Hans started to get bored around the third course, flicking balls of his torn up napkin at Edward, The eleventh in line. He was an absolute dimwit. Couldn't figure out where they where coming from, at all.

Then, at two-thirty he over heard a servant say to another,

"Bring 'im the cake, poor things going mad!"

And they brought it on a silver platter.

It was a two layered, cream filled chocolate cake from Arendelle. On any other day, Hans would've been eager to get the knife and cut it so he could scoff down heaven immediately. Everyone knew chocolate from Arendelle was _the_ best.

Except now-a-days the name was kind of... tainted.

"Careful, Hans. If you eat that you might have to marry Princess Elsa." One of his brothers said.

The table erupted with laughter. They where a wolf pack now that Mother had gone. She had left the room earlier, on account of a migraine. The Queen seemed to be getting these quite frequently as of late.

"What?" Hans answered moodily. "Elsa will be the Queen. If I marry her, I'll be the king of the worlds best chocolate." He smiled.

This only induced further roaring laughter.

"Yeah, alright, Hans!" Chuckled Heinrich, the Fifth in line. "You're a cute little bastard." He wasn't one of the worst.

"More like an ugly idiot." Sneered Tomas, the Seventh in line. He wasn't one of the wittiest.

"Shut up, the lot of you. Let him enjoy his cake." That was Yorik, the eldest, whose cruelty had faded with wisdom and marriage. Although he was still spiteful when he didn't feel merciful. He sat with a book perched on his lap.

Hans still didn't understand the joke, and had even forgotten about his fire trying to figure it out. His cake remained untouched as he peered over it.

"I don't get what's so funny. What's wrong with Princess Elsa?"

All thirteen eyes blinked back at him in shock.

"Don't you remember, lad? What Mother told you on Wednesday?" Edgar, Third in line.

Hans shook his head. Wednesday had been the holiday festival in town and Hans hardly heard a word of what anyone spoke after they _actually_ said he could attend. He spent half of his money on gingerbread houses.

"They locked her in." Said Edgar, as if he were telling a ghost story. "She hasn't had a visitor for months nor has anyone seen head or tail of her."

"Why? Is she sick?" Asked Hans, innocently.

Several of his brothers shot each other looks. No one seemed to want to tell him, some even seemed unsure of the reason, and he thought he'd have to go ask Mother to clear it up - as now curiosity had grabbed him and Hans would rather know than not.

"No."

The table fell silent.

Andersen had spoken. He rarely did that after the _incident_ , on account of the pain it caused. The sound of his voice was somewhat eerie to hear.

His dead gaze was unwavering as he looked at Hans. One of his hands held tight onto his culturally knife, which flashed in the light.

"She injured her _sibling_."

Hans swallowed, his hands starting to shake under the table. Those gleaming, predator eyes, stared across at him like... _no, I don't want to think of that._

 _"_ That's just a rumour, Andy." Said Tomas. "She's probably wacko like Hansy over there, though."

More laughter. Yorik gave him a pitying look, like Mother. Hans flushed, dropping his gaze to the peach table-cloth and screwing up his nose. He flexed his fingers, easing the tension.

"They say she's got a wicked soul." Andersen drawled with a whinch. The brothers went quiet again, beginning to share a mutual look of fear.

A whisper: _"I don't know about everyone else...but he's freaking me the hell out,"_

Hans narrowed his eyes toward Andersen. "You can't say that about someone you've never met before."

He shrugged. "I didn't. I just heard in it town."

"See!" Hollered Julian, Sixth in line. "Bunch of rumours. I heard one that called her the _Ice Princess_!"

"Yeah right!" Tomas again. "That's like that stupid Moira story Mother used to tell us."

The laughter seemed deafening to Hans, but all he could think of was that name. _Moira._

His fingers twitched.

 _No._

 _Don't think of that._

 _They're wrong._

 _NO._

"NO!" He shrieked, although it was barely heard through the chaos. A few of his brothers lifted their heads.

"What's wrong with Hansy?"

He was feeling the hot.

"I don't know. He's an odd child."

Burning.

"I was only kidding about the cake Hans."

Scorching.

"We know _you_ could never marry an Arendelle Princess, let alone marry into a throne."

Blazing.

"YOU'RE WRONG."

For the third time that afternoon, the entire table fell silent. All eyes where on Hans. He had climbed on his chair and was breathing heavily, hands balled up to contain the fire (this time above proper length sleeves belonging to a rather prim, fitted tailcoat he'd received as a gift from his uncle.) The guards had advanced a few steps and had their hands poised above the hilts of their swords, as if he would strike them down. Little did they know _he could._ Hans thought this somewhat smugly, and the fire didn't seem so wild at his finger tips for a moment.

"I _will_ marry into the throne. I'll rule over Arendelle or Corona or any damn kingdom I please. _I'll show you all._ " He hissed.

For once, he thought they might take him seriously. No one seemed to react for a very long time as he stood there determinedly. He had even begun to think of all the kingdoms he'd visit and how everyone would love him. Lucky Thirteen, they'd dub him instead.

"Pftt." That was Erik, the Eighth in line. "Good luck trying to keep your charm up. You're about as convincing as a brick wall."

As they laughed and chattered again, Hans sunk back into his padded chair silently. His gloves felt warm and were no doubt scorched again. He cut himself a piece of cake, eyes far-a-way as he picked up his fork and begun to eat it. It was heaven. That much was true.

 _One day,_ he thought, chewing contently, _I'll meet Princess Elsa._

 _._

 _Brush off the ashes_  
 _Laugh as the flame licks_  
 _Life is your sky_  
 _You are the phoenix_


	8. I am one with the wind and sky

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! You made my entire day. I was smiling for way too long. Next Chapter will be back to Anna - I can't bare to leave her suffering any longer. Might be a little longer wait though.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter eight**

 _I am one with the wind and sky_

 _._

 _I saw you breathed_  
 _The same air as me_  
 _As if it was another world_  
 _Entirely_

.

"My Queen, if I may ask... where are we going?"

There it was again, that smoothness, silk and honey, with a hue of _trying too damn hard._

Elsa continued to look straight on, a single incline of her head the only indicator she gave that she'd heard. Frustration emitted from him in heat waves beside her, but still he strode neat and remained gracefully tall. He kept flexing his hands. She kept hers tucked in front of her, safe.

It was well into the morning. The eternal winter was still eternal, and Elsa and Hans where still miserably trekking the mountains together. Light poured over the fresh snow as it glittered, because the snow didn't know any better. The snow didn't know it wasn't supposed to be there.

The Queen had something else on her mind. It was a fierce, guarded thought. Elsa wasn't going to let him brew up that storm in her again. Nothing felt akin to _that_ and it seemed as if isolating herself from him hadn't made a difference at all, if the snow flurry incident was anything to go by.

"To build an ice castle." She replied crisply.

"I know, that was my idea." He said, a tad snappy. A small smile graced her lips.

Hans cleared his throat. "What I mean to say, my Queen." _my Queen, now, is it._ She glanced at him.

 _"_ Is that we seem to have been walking for quite a while now and you haven't said a word since we left."

Elsa paused as if to view the scenery, irritating him further. Several pine trees dotted the sides of the 'path' as if to give them some privacy. Hans growled under his breath, a furnace beside her, and she simply wanted to smile at his discomfort. His burning eyes where frightening her, though.

"Prince Hans, I'm... not very happy with you."

He blinked, green eyes now bright with surprise. "What? What do you mean? I thought..."

" _You_ are _not_ my freedom." She said, simply, recalling his hands briefly on her shoulders. "Or my anchor."

The words made her blush and turn sharply away. Hans was no doubt severely confused, but she didn't care. He'd made her struggle emotionally enough. It was his turn she thought, spite edging into her embarrassment. The reminder he'd found her buried under her own snow almost broke her resolve and she fought to bat it away.

( _They'd sometimes find her like that in her room. Unmoving. Unable to move for the sadness and fear she felt had paralysed her, made her bones feel weak and her limbs uselessly heavy. The snow was as cold as her skin, a blanket, hiding her face, protecting. Please. I don't want to be here._ )

Elsa began to shake a little, just enough for her to feel. She took several breaths. Hans didn't reply instantly or throw out any witty remark. This was both a relief and incredibly stressful to anticipate. When he did answer, it was just... typical.

"I can't say I understand you, my Queen." Such polite words for such a derisive tone.

Elsa turned to look at him, lips pulled taunt. He was _grinning_. The nerve of this man. Anger flared through her as hot as the fire that had danced in his palm. She ground her teeth, annoyed and appalled that thinking of that made her feel _nice._

 _So much for his turn._

 _"_ Forget it." She said bitterly.

Hans shrugged. "As you wish."

 _Urgh._ Elsa crossed her arms and walked on, fingers trembling between her elbows. She heard him follow, snow crunching under his boots. A puppy dog at her heels. The thought calmed her a little - puppies where harmless. Except for the fact they constantly shower you with affection. Oh, and Hans probably wouldn't make a good Christmas present.

Okay, never mind. It was a stupid analogy.

A moment later he was touching her elbow. Fingers ever so lightly cupped it, as if she was made of glass, and a ridiculous heat began to prickle through her. She gasped and yanked away, snarling under her breath.

" _what do you want?_ "

"So _that's_ what it is." He muttered. Being unable to understand him, Elsa felt that familiar jolt of fear in her heart. What did he reckon he'd figured out? Why did he reckon he _could_ figure her out? This bothered her, unsurprisingly. Prince Hans was a man filled to the brim with things that made her feel on edge. In more way than one, apparently.

 _I don't want him to know that._

"Do you want me to run away again?" Elsa said, grasping at her own hands to maintain a collected exterior. The words where a threat, but she couldn't deny the impulse to run. She stared at the tip of a far off mountain. It made her pulse race, took her breath away, gave it to the sky.

Hans just laughed at her. It was still a weird sound. It scraped at her bones, as if it was never truly laughter.

When he spoke it was different matter altogether.

The Prince sunk into a bow, one hand inclined toward her in a truly melodramatic fashion. His eyes blinked up at her, wide and... what was it her cousin's husband used to say?

Elsa was witnessing a green eyed alteration of _the smoulder._ She took a small step back, both hands now curled in-front of her as she stared down at Hans with a mixture of fear and scepticism. _What on earth..._

He lathered on the honey until it was dripping.

"I humbly _beg_ you not too. I promised to keep you safe and... I'm afraid I'll freeze to death without your sweet presence, your most gracious majesty."

Her face started to heat up again, and she found herself pressing her cold hands to it. Hans' serious expression broke into a smile. His hand reached to tug the end of her braid, but then he seemed to think better of it, stopping just before he touched it. _Good._

"You look adorable." _Not so good._

She shot him a glare. "I've told you. Stop it."

"Stop what?" A smirk flickered across his freckled, ruddy face. "I am simply telling the truth, My Queen Elsa."

She flushed again. "Stop trying to...to" (there was a satisfied look she wanted to slap off his face, which was quite distracting.)

"To _charm_ me."

He pulled an innocent expression. Which clearly meant he was guilty. A day and a half with Prince Hans was all she needed to know that much.

"Is this how you convinced my little sister to marry you after barely a day?" She jabbed, crossing her arms.

Ah, good. He looks uncomfortable now.

When he gave no reply, Elsa became frustrated, and stuck her chin up. She also began wondering how Anna must feel to hear her idiot almost-fiance is lost in the snowstorm her distant, cold sister created.

 _No, don't think of all that, Elsa_

 _But Anna likes him and this is my winter, my fault, my chaos-_

How could he play with a young girls feelings like that? She didn't believe for a second this would be an honest engagement - especially now that she's _met_ him.

 _This is my frozen heart._

"You must still be worried about her." Hans suddenly said, quietly, so quietly she almost didn't hear him. It was like a whisper on the breeze. A warm breath. If she wasn't so heavily aware of his presence, she might've mistaken it for one of her own thoughts. He was standing now, incredibly too close for Elsa's liking.

"I am." Elsa said, and turned away so he wouldn't see the tears that surfaced briefly. She rolled her shoulders back, took a breath, straightened up. Clear eyes tracked a bird edging across the cloudy sky. _Free._

She still wanted to know the truth. Why this over-polite, sardonical prince thought the Queen of Arendelle would ever bless a marriage with an engagement period of two hours. Did she really look that _stupid_?

"Answer my question." She commanded icily. She was aware he was hovering at her elbow again.

"I'm flattered that you find my compliments _charming_." He said, back to being the worlds most annoying prince.

Elsa sighed and resisted the urge to dash her head against a rock. Clearly he wasn't going to admit his intentions so easily. Instead, she opened her fist and threw a snowball over her shoulder at him. It was immensely satisfying.

"You little..." He muttered, glaring hot at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him bend down toward the snow. She'd seen Anna do that enough times when they where little to know exactly what he was doing.

Her head turned by a fraction, lashes fluttering toward him. "Don't you dare."

Hans lowered his arm and dropped the snow immediately, both hands in the air - the look of a child caught steeling biscuits from the jar. Only much more brutal. Had he really been about to throw snow _(the irony)_ at her? Sure, it was harmless, but she was _The Queen_. When will he get that into his head? She stared hard at him. He smiled back.

"What was the question again?" _You know what the question was you insufferable man._

"Charming Anna, my sister, to marry you."

"Oh, right, yes." Despite his smile, he looked nervous. Poor mans sideburns where all aflutter.

 _Cry me a river._

"No... well, actually..." His words where plucked, as if he were learning to speak. He wouldn't look at her straight "I just... talked her. Told her what she wanted to her, and she liked me."

She rolled her eyes. "That is _literally_ the definition of charm, Hans."

"I-" He licked his lips, seeming even more nervous. "I was actually trying to get to you." (no surprise there.) "Anna just seemed like a better _option_ at the time. It's not my fault she found me charming"

Elsa waited, assuming he'd elaborate for himself. His answer had infuriated her. When he didn't justify himself, she prompted him, her toe tapping.

" _Why?_ "

A beat, green eyes flickering quickly at her and away. "I'm not sure what you're asking."

 _You do._

 _You won't look at me._

Elsa dug her nails into her palm. How _dare_ he? Anna, sweet, funny Anna. She lights up every room, and everyone adores her - if not for her innocence then for her caring soul. She didn't deserve to be manipulated.

"You didn't really want to marry her for ' _true love'_ , did you." It was more a statement than a question. "You don't believe in that."

Hans shied away from her gaze again. "What does it matter anymore?"

She ground her teeth. _Not. The. Point._

"Anna's too good for you." She said, channelling her passion and bitterness into one shiny point. It was like channelling her rage through her ice. She shivered. _One point for Elsa being unlike Hans._

"No." He said, like she'd misunderstood. " _You're_ too good for me."

The words where suffocating to hear.

" _What?_ " She hissed, expecting to look up and see his infuriating little smirk. Instead she found herself gaping into his eyes, suddenly filled with that odd look she'd seen before. She swallowed.

"Don't you get it? Charm won't work on me." Her voice came out breathy. She hated it. That's not how she planned it to go at all. Guilt threatened to wrack her but oh the way he was _looking_ at her...

" _I know._ " He said, a little cruel. "No one can get anywhere with _you_."

Her faced screwed up in contempt. She was unable to conceal the hurt that inexplicably ran through her, a hand almost flying out to hit him.

" _You_ can't, anyway." She replied harshly. " _You're not as good as you think_ "

"Fine." His jaw clenched.

"Fine."

Then, he surprised her.

He took her hand, yanking her to him, and firmly kissed it.

Elsa went completely red once more. Seething with humiliation and ire, her fingers curled from his and she slapped him across the cheek, hard. Frost shot into his hair and dusted his side burns. Watching this sent jolts of electricity pulsing through her. Her hand tingled, her heart raced thunderously, and numbness spread across her palm. His cheek pulsed red. He was refusing to react, but she could see it had hurt him from the way he flinched.

His gaze was _dark._

 _Oh._

"I've told you about doing things like that." She whispered, stepping up to him to stare him down (well, up). Instead of crippling anxiety, Elsa felt a luscious _rage._

"And you keep physically abusing me." He retorted with an amused smirk. His voice came out graverly.

The Prince looked far, far too happy.

Her fingers twitched to strangle him, briefly thinking it would be worth it, until her better judgement kicked in. Instead, she dug her heel into his shoe, sending spirals all over it. He tensed upon impact. Teeth ground as his gaze burned into her frigid one. It reminded her of flames. _Why don't you burn me_ , she thought, digging into his upper arm with her fingernails now.

He grabbed her waist instead, just like the first time he'd stepped his mark to hoist her onto his steed. He surprised her, again, as his lips connected with her jawline. It was as soft as his hand had been against hers when he'd shown her the fire. Elsa's fingers slackened as he moved down to her neck, kissing once, twice, feathery and ferociously.

 _It's nothing, it's nothing, it's nothing._ She repeated like a mantra, her eyes fluttering shut. She refused to react, could not react, to the burning sensation that engulfed her. He hadn't even had to use his powers.

 _Don't._

 _Don't feel it._

One hand inched to his hair, The other fisted the thick wool on his shoulder.

"This... isn't... going... to work... either." She stammered, breathless. His teeth sunk into her shoulder and she gasped, a hand tightening. The wool began to crackle with frost.

"I'm... I'm serious."

Hans lifted his head, eyes flickering to hers again. They where filled with so much lust she wanted to look away. She soon found that she couldn't move, at all. Elsa tightened her jaw and remained defiant. No matter how strongly she held onto him or how dizzy she felt. She wondered if he would go for her lips, thought about the sensation of being kissed - imagined it; she had never experienced such a thing.

Elsa firmly told herself she didn't want him to do it. Normally her chest would tighten, her head would scream. Now, she felt heedy and _warm._

She remembered the suitors she'd refused to dance with at the coronation. One of them looked like he wanted to kiss her, and the thought only disgusted her. She'd run off quickly with some rushed excuse.

Why wouldn't she do the same to _Hans_?

He was just another one of them.

Wasn't he?

 _(No)_

Elsa waited like a deer caught in headlights. The glowering wolves had become hungry, grasping at each other instead of fighting. His hands flexed around her waist, pressing softly into her sides. Her breath hitched.

Just like everything he does, he frustrated her.

And he let her go.

Dropped her gently back so her heels where flat again on the snow. When did she get on her tiptoes?

The sudden sense of loss that ran through her was ridiculous. As he stepped back, some unchecked side of her wanted to fling her arms back around him. She blushed at the thought, _because why not I've blushed enough already._

Hans was staring at her, hands behind his back. He ran a hand through his slightly mussed hair... and looked as if absolutely nothing had happened, aside from the thawing frost on his shoulder (with some horror she realised it was above the blood stain). Here stood the same prim, proper, snarky prince, a tiny smile waiting to break across his face. He didn't quite look as confident though, as if he had something to say but wouldn't speak up.

Elsa blinked at him. She was trembling a little, she realised. Her arms drew themselves around her - where he had held her at her waist. She doubted she'd ever be able to do this again without thinking of what had just happened. Her right shoulder throbbed.

Hans mustered up sincerity, green eyes melting. "I apologise profoundly, your majesty Queen Elsa. I... uh, got a little carried away."

That wasn't what he was going to say.

"You... stopped." Elsa whispered.

Hans titled his head, as if to consider her. " _You asked me to_."

This didn't make sense to Elsa. Since when did anyone listen to a thing _she_ wanted? _Or thought she wanted..._

"I will give you your space, as you wish."

Elsa breathed in, completely at loss. What was she supposed to think? The number of emotions and amount of suspicion here, between two people in the middle of Norwegian mountains, seemed inexplicable. The wires all crossed within her until all she could feel was a tangled mess to be poked at. She didn't want to poke at anything in _her_ mind.

So she just nodded, brushing her hands over her skirt despite it being perfectly fine.

"Thank you. You are forgiven."

"I... I am?" He sounded surprised.

Elsa gave him an odd look. "Yes..."

"Right." Hans murmured, looking at his hands. She felt a little sorry for him watching him do that. It seemed too insecure for him, and despite the irritation his natural self caused her, she'd rather he be that than... this.

"Hans?" She whispered, stepping tentatively to his side. He looked at her, vulnerable again, as she'd seen him yesterday after he'd confessed what he'd done. Elsa wondered if she was seeing the real Hans. The expression flickered away too quickly for any judgements of a sort, and he was back to his over-confident self.

Except for what he asked.

"Queen Elsa can I, um... take your hand?"

Elsa stared at the hand he'd offered, white gloved, elegantly poised. There was no reason not too, she supposed. It wasn't strange for a Prince to escort a Queen.

"I... of course." She said, and she placed her slight hand in his, watching him carefully. The moment seemed to never end, like the eternity of her winter and the depth of her sorrow.

( _Please_.)

( _Please... it never ends._ )

"We'll just be going over there." Her free hand pointed to a far-off direction.

The Prince raised a brow at her, cocky. "Do you know _where_ over there we're going?"

 _Is he kidding,_ " _Yes_." She exhaled, mentally counting to ten.

"Well then. Lead the way, your majesty." Hans shot her a perfect smile. She nodded, tried not to really look, (she looked.)

At least he'd confirmed that he'd tricked Anna into something. She still didn't understand _why_ though, considering everything. Anna would not provide him a throne. _No, it would only let him in._ The thought made her feel angry toward him again.

She wished she could just hate him completely. Instead of this, this, _whatever the hell was going on._

Elsa felt a fluttering sensation in her stomach as his hand gripped hers more firmly. She found it bizarre how moments ago _that_ had happened, and now they where simply hand in hand; hers draped over his palm as he held up her arm.

"Alright." She shrugged, glancing at him. Then she smiled, lovely and sweet and bright.

A snowy-breeze entwined around them then, lifting them from the ground, legs dangling. Elsa was perfectly calm. Hans started screaming, understandably.

"I would appreciate if you would not do that." Elsa said, her smile only a slight curve now.

"I'm SORRY?" Hans' eyes where like saucers, his mouth agape. "WE ARE FLYING, ELSA."

" _Queen_ Elsa."

"HOW DID YOU EVEN LEARN TO DO THIS?"

Elsa started to giggle, "I've honestly no idea."

"ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?"

"YES." His grip on her hand had become deathly, making her smile a little forced. "Now, stop shouting. I've changed my mind. We're going up there."

Hans saw what she meant. They where going up another mountain, one with steep, sharp faces - where no one without Elsa's powers could get to. That's when he started to smile idiotically wide. He planted a chaise kiss on her hand, quickly, gone before she even noticed. She gave him a look, a _what the hell you playing at Hans_ , look. He stared at her with earnest eyes.

"Queen Elsa of Arendelle. You are a _genius_."

"You're trying to make me blush again, aren't you?" mumbled Elsa, blushing completely.

Hans mocked shock, placing a hand to his heart. "What makes you think _I_ would ever do such a thing to you, your sweet grace."

"Shut up, Hans."

"Of course. I will sew my lips together as soon as get the chance."

Elsa hid her smile. "That would be convenient, yes."

The wind embraced them, soft and bitter, warm and sharp, and they rose. Hans' grip remained ridiculously strong, pushing her fingers into his as he stared anxiously down. As if her tiny figure would save him if he fell. The view became more astounding the higher they got, little rivers of melt water twisting between valleys, vast expanses dwarfed into snow globe landscapes.

"You'll make it worse looking down." Elsa told him, grinning as she felt the cold air on her face.

Hans nodded, still looking down. "Are we almost there?"

"No."

"...oh. I see."

"Aren't you supposed to be brave for a prince?"

" _That_ is an unfair stereotype. I have the right to decline answering."

Elsa snorted. Turned out the 'perfect' prince had more than one weakness after all.


End file.
